


Shadows of the Dogfather

by Grace2013



Series: The Dogfather [4]
Category: TaleSpin (TV)
Genre: 1960s, Blackmail, F/M, Family Fluff, Hallucinations, Honeymoon, Implied Relationships, Mercy Killing, Murder, Nobility, Physical Disability, Romance, Seduction, Tags Contain Spoilers, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:32:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grace2013/pseuds/Grace2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1963. After some minor, in-law related skirmishes; Alice and Jamie are finally getting married. However, when a certain *someone* crashes the wedding; the concept of a foreign honeymoon becomes more and more alluring. And the noble Rathblair family from Scozia are not everything they would want their Uslandian guests to believe.......</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The reason why there are no religious weddings in my Talespin stories is due to the fact that it's an alternate universe, duh! :P One specifically where there is no religion. (like Redwall) so in these stories; Christmas is a holiday associated with spending time with friends and family and has no religious ties. Easter is nonexistent. The entities of heaven and hell DO exist; but again are nonreligious concepts here.
> 
> So there's my little expository speech of the day. Enjoy story ;)
> 
>  
> 
> DISCLAIMER: 'At Last' belongs to Etta James. Or whoever sang it first. Either way, that song is certainly not mine! And a Hard Day's Night belongs to the Beatles of course! :)

October 16th, 1962

 

Don Felipe Karnage glanced at the phone, which Alice had just passed over to him. His daughter was returning to her own home now, but he didn’t care at all- after all; she was an adult now and could take care of herself. Nonetheless, the wolf stared at the receiver as a vaguely familiar voice asked:

 

“Mr. Karnage?”

 

A slight pause.

 

“Yeah, this is Jamie. Alice’s friend from high school.”

 

On his end of the line, Jamie Duncan swallowed.

 

“You probably remember me from….You know. But I called to talk to you about something important.”

 

“Que?”

 

Jamie took a breath as he continued:

 

“I’m sure Alice mentioned dating over the summer…. Yeah, that someone’s me. And we….We want to get married.”

 

For a moment, Karnage went silent. Alice had indeed mentioned in her visits that she was dating, but the wolf had never pressed her to reveal the details. It was her business, and Karnage now felt Alice was mature enough to effectively handle her own, appropriate relationships. But if this was JAMIE she was dating….Karnage now felt a mixture of suspicion, surprise and even a little anger. In conclusion; he was not quite sure how to react to all of this, so he took a moment and then said:

 

“Eef eet’s okay, I would like to talk weeth you face to face about dees, Jamie.”

 

“Later this afternoon. Any place you have in mind for us to meet?”

 

“De park.”

 

Karnage told Jamie which one, and Jamie concluded the conversation with:

 

“All right. I’ll see you.”

 

“Si.”

 

They both hung up.

 

Moments later, Grace entered the living room; fresh from having seen Alice off. Her tail was wagging, and she leaned against the wall and she casually intoned to Karnage:

 

“Hi Felipe.”

 

Karnage glanced up at his wife from the phone he’d just set down, and she wasted no time in getting to business.

 

“Did Jamie Duncan call a minute ago?”

 

“Si, querida.”

 

Grace sighed. She figured there was no better time than now to let it spill:

 

“He called me last night, while you were already asleep. I don’t know about you, but I think Alice and Jamie will be fine together. It seems like they’ve both grown up a hell of a lot since….Well, you know what I mean.”

 

“Si, si…”

 

Karnage seemed to tense a bit.

 

“What DO you think of Jamie though?”

 

“I’m confuzzled.”

 

“Yeah, I know. But do you think they’d be able to get along, honestly?”

 

Grace was careful not to say ‘they’ll’ this was all still just a big what-if, after all.

 

Karnage, meanwhile, hesitated a while before answering.

 

“Maybe, maybe not. I am not knowing yet.”

 

The uncertainty was blatant in his voice.

 

Grace thought back to when Jamie had called her at just past midnight the previous evening. She’d been surprised (that being an understatement!) that he had called, and had spoken in whispers the whole time so as not to disturb a peacefully-sleeping Karnage (Jamie had called because he’d wanted to talk to Grace first and save Karnage for last, for personal reasons). Jamie had spent just under two hours talking about his and Alice’s recent engagement; and to Grace at least, he seemed a bit of a shy but nonetheless good-natured young creature.

 

Grace was well aware that definitely did NOT excuse the two from the premarital sex they’d had seven years ago in 1955, Grace felt that Alice and Jamie were now old enough and emotionally mature enough to pursue the appropriate relationship together, but she certainly couldn’t speak for Karnage.

 

“Are you going to talk to Jamie personally?”

 

“Si, querida.”

 

Grace took a slow breath.

 

“I’ve already made my decision; and I admit it was probably a little hasty, but as sure as hell I can’t speak for you, and whether or not YOU think Jamie should marry Alice is your decision. Personally, I myself don’t think he’s half bad. But maybe I’m just easily duped. Or maybe I wasn’t. We’ll see. My point is; why don’t you just meet him and see for yourself?”

 

Karnage spoke now:

 

“Dees I vow: Eef he ever hurts her, I weel keel heem. Eef not and dey’re happy…”

 

He shrugged.

 

Grace nodded.

 

“I understand.”

 

Time passed. They continued to talk, and at three-thirty Karnage left the house to speak with Jamie. Grace; having already made up her mind, stayed at home. There was nothing to do for now except remain calm and hope for the very best.


	2. Chapter One

At the park they’d agreed to meet at, Jamie sat on a slatted park bench waiting for Karnage. The park was relatively peaceful in the throes of fading autumn afternoon, and Jamie had just about dozed off in the placid sunlight when Karnage approached him, studying him a bit cautiously from a distance.

The wolf noted Jamie’s relaxed, casual attitude as well as his likewise manner of dress: He wore a pale green polo shirt and dark blue jeans, and leaned back against the bench and muttered:

 

“Hey.”

 

to his would-be father-in-law.

 

Karnage’s arms were at his side, and he took a moment to gaze up at the unclouded sky before quickly turning back to Jamie, embarrassed at having gotten lost in nature’s simple perfection of the day.

 

“Hola, Jamie.”

 

Jamie tensed a little.

 

“So…You wanna cut straight to business?”

 

“Si, por favor.”

 

“Then what do you want to tell me?”

 

Karnage told Jamie what needed to be told:

 

“Alicia… Dees ees mi angelo, Jamie. Mi bambina, mi angelo.”

 

Jamie swallowed. And he had screwed her. The young dog cleared his throat and glanced at Karnage with uncertain eyes:

 

“Do you doubt me?”

 

“No. I just wanted to let you know.”

 

Jamie considered this.

 

“Okay, but I wanted to know: Do you REALLY trust me with your daughter? Because yeah, I know we got it up seven years ago….But the two of us were just silly kids then.”

 

Karnage had made a decision now. He spoke honestly:

 

“Si, Jamie. You’ve changed since then.”

 

The wolf was very reluctant to say so; but for maturity’s sake, he would move on and let this go. After all, as he DID say: “Let biplanes be biplanes.” Alice and Jamie had done something truly foolish, but they were just teens at the time and had matured since then. And Karnage was now beginning to feel he could trust them both.

 

“I have.”

 

Jamie agreed.

 

“Alice and I, we both have. I ain’t lying. But I had no idea if you knew that or not….”

 

“I do.”

 

Karnage gave Jamie a quick hug. It was a transitional hug if you will; one that symbolized the change from enemies into friends, and then into future in-laws.

 

“I would be honored to have you join mi familia. I’m not losing a daughter, I’m gaining a hijo.”

 

Jamie heaved a quiet sigh of relief. There were no words to describe his happiness and gratitude- He couldn’t help but grin slightly at the thought of the future awaiting him and Alice.

 

“I’m honored to be your son-in-law.”

 

Jamie whispered, his voice softened by compassion.

 

“And Alice and I….We DID have a date picked for the wedding you know.”

 

“What date? Could I help een any way?”

 

“April 26th.”

 

Karnage grinned.

 

“Perfectamundo!”

 

“We’re planning on having it in Karnageport. And… I’ll see you later.”

 

Jamie smiled a bit.

 

Before turning and leaving himself, Karnage looked to Jamie and told him sincerely:

 

“Jamie? Me allegro de que vas a ser mi hijo en la ley. Me siento honrada.”

 

It meant: “I’m glad you’re going to be my son-in-law. I’m honored’

 

And with Karnage’s words, the two went their separate ways.

 

As a sunny October faded into a brisk November, Alice and Jamie were euphoric with making wedding plans, and Karnage and Grace were both overjoyed that their clung-to hopes had proved true. However, things soon turned sour. In mid-November Karnage was appointed as the prosecuting attorney for a seventeen-year-old wolf named Travis George Williams, the son of the infamous film sensation Brandon Williams.

 

Of course Karnage had heard of Brandon Williams. Who hadn’t?! Williams (over the course of just past a decade) had amassed quite the fortune from his acting career, but as the mid 1940’s progressed; the film community was beginning to look at him with shame. He began spending his hard-earned cash in a noveau riche fashion, engaging in various petty crimes and quietly buying out the police when he was done. As he gained more and more bad press for his little stunts, Williams was recruited by producers and directors less and less, and the dashing leading male who had been represented in movie posters and magazine centerfolds from 1932 to 1943 had finally fallen from grace.

 

But no matter. Williams (A charismatic gray wolf known for his gold tooth) found love in Linda Lewis, a petite specimen of a wolf who was born and raised in Anglicia but immigrated to Usland seeking work; who had charmed Williams with her nervous laugh and awkward but very natural self-confidence. Their highly-publicized wedding occurred in 1944, and Travis was born a year later in 1945. He had been a very strange, unstable child starting in his preschool years; made seemingly even worse by his parents’ calamitous 1958 divorce. Travis had never left his father’s custody since; and now the only news about his father, which various tabloid columns eagerly snapped up, was which porn star he was currently dating.

 

Travis, meanwhile, was currently on trial for the second-degree murder of one of his father’s girlfriends. This was not the first time he’d been in a courtroom- The young wolf had been convicted before for such things as pyromania and shoplifting, though his father had never hesitated to bail out his precious son. This time though, it was a whole new ball game altogether, and this time Travis would NOT have the luxury of daddy to get him out of trouble.

 

Soon, Karnage felt a little uneasy about prosecuting Travis because his behavior was so similar to Leo’s: Withdrawn attitude, sadism, and just a hint of inappropriate interest in females. More than enough to unnerve Karnage; but as time passed he found a bit of an ironic joy in prosecuting Travis, because there were times when he could act like such a spoiled brat (which he was) it was hilarious. It got the point where Karnage pointed a finger at Travis while the court was in session and exclaimed:

 

“You rude, estupid juvenile delinquety-link!”

 

Travis looked momentarily baffled, but then bared his teeth and adopted a look of offense. There were a few murmurs and quiet laughs among the courtroom before it settled down and everything continued as planned. By the end of the month, Travis had pleaded insanity and was sentenced to four years minimum in a mental institution. Karnage was certainly glad to see him go. But meanwhile….Let’s take a look at what was going on elsewhere; and on the other side of the country no less!

 

Less Vegas, Navoda

 

November 20th, 1962

 

Leo Karnage (Or to call him by his current alias; Landino diVenazetti) 23, was grinning charismatically as he stepped onto the stage of the small Less Vegas nightclub/bar simply called Feral. He’d been hired on little more than a week ago as a singer; and already he felt full of self-confidence and poise about his position. Though Leo appeared, for all intents and purposes sane; he in fact was far from it. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his delicious and very voluntary thoughts of raping females aside and took a few more steps forward.

 

Leo was dressed in a white tuxedo (which went well with his dark fur) and a pale red bow tie, as well as matching, formal pants of the same color. He managed to put on a grin for the audience who’d crowded into the room that reeked of liquor and cigarette smoke, and began to sing. Leo’s singing voice was far from perfect; but there was a certain, ironic charm to it, and he was able to carry a tune fairly decently.

 

So, he stepped up to the microphone and sang:

 

“At last…..My love has come along. And my lonely days, are over. And life is like a song! Oohh, yeah, yeah. At last. The skies above are blue, and my heart was wrapped up in clover, the night I looked at you. I found a dream that I could speak to. A dream that I can call my own….”

 

When Leo finished the song, he was greeted by modest applause; and he took a bow and departed offstage. Later, as Feral was closing for the evening, Leo was preparing to leave when he caught sight of an attractive young greyhound who looked to be around his age.

 

“Hello.”

 

He murmured silkily, approaching her.

 

The greyhound turned.

 

“Hi.”

 

She sounded uninterested. Damn. Leo tried another tactic.

 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a trash heap like this, hmmm?”

 

He extended a paw and daintily tickled her wrist. She did not pull away but cringed slightly.

 

“Well, I have nothing else to do with my time.”

 

The other dog folded her arms.

 

Oh, she had such skinny, willowy arms. And that tail! Leo’s tongue was hanging out now.

 

“You fuckin’ pervert…”

 

The greyhound shook her head, laughing a bit. But that laughter was cut off very quickly as Leo began to stroke her hips and moved steadily downward to the pubic bone. Less than an hour later he was standing alone in the bitter fall evening; the manager of Feral’s words still ringing in his ears:

 

“Sexual harassment, diVenazetti. You’re lucky I convinced that girl not to press charges. But in the meantime; you’re fired. Get your ass outta here.”

 

And so Leo had. He didn’t really care about this whole ordeal, for some odd reason. He could always find work elsewhere. With an eerie little grin; Leo went to the nearest airport and inquired how many flights he’d have to take to get back to Old York and Cape Suzette.

 

Soon, the fall of 1962 drew to a close and in its place there occurred a troubling (figurative) nuclear winter- The dueling countries of Usland and Thembria BOTH had access to nuclear weapons, and as such were constantly threatening to drop them on the other. After a long succession of meetings and diplomatic peace talks however, by February of 1963 it was made clear that no threat was imminent. And that was just as well- Alice and Jamie were relieved at no longer having to worry about dangerous political goings-on while they were also busy planning away for their upcoming wedding.

 

On the quiet morning of April 26th, 1963 an unlikely group of creatures made intertwined trips to Karnageport: Melina, Hal, Charlene and Harold went together sans Eli, who was too busy with schoolwork to attend the wedding. Karnage and Grace took the Rolls Royce (Obviously); and Alice and Jamie drove together in his beat-up Dodge Kingsway; Alice having decided to leave her own car home to make the ride back for her and Jamie less of a hassle.

 

Surprisingly, Karnage’s sister, Rosa and her daughter Elisa (who had been one of Alice’s friends while they were growing up) were reluctantly carpooling in Rosa’s positively ANCIENT 1933 Chevrolet Standard Six, due to the fact that Elisa’s own car was in dire need of repair.

 

In the end, everyone met at the same hotel Grace and Karnage had stayed at during their summer 1945 trip to Karnageport; where Karnage adamantly let it slip that he’d invited (besides Hal and Melina) all his former crew members he could track down: Mad Dog, Dumptruck, Hacksaw, (Jock or ‘Scotty’ as he had been nicknamed had long retired and passed on due to age) Gibber, and Ratchet. All of the above showed up modestly dressed in threadbare suits and clip-on ties that looked like suspiciously last-minute purchases.

 

As far as members of the wedding party went; there need be no mention of who the mother and father of the bride were, though Jamie’s own father was absent for obvious reasons; but Pearl dutifully showed up as planned.

 

Harold had volunteered as Jamie’s best man, and Charlene was Alice’s bridesmaid. Shortly after her fourteenth birthday, in 1960, Charlene had become an awkward, self-conscious if not slightly vain teenager whose precociousness Alice scoffed at. But that was no matter. All in all, she was a very sweet child and felt honored to be participating in the wedding; and Alice was thrilled to have her as her chief bridesmaid. In the end, Jamie had no groomsmen though that did not necessarily bother him.

 

After a little less than an hour of casual talk, the key members of the wedding party and their families departed to do some last-minute preparations for the ceremony.

 

In their shared bedroom (it had long been negotiated that everyone would be staying in Karnageport overnight), Hal Barnhart adjusted his black bowtie and studied himself in the mirror, brow furrowed. He was dressed in a simple navy blue suit and black pants, but Hal was unsure if this was the look he’d intended. And he had absolutely no idea how long he’d had this suit when he’d dragged it out of his closet at home in preparation for the wedding; though judging by the amount of mothballs it was coated in at the time it was possibly from his fortieth birthday seven years ago now.

 

But nonetheless, Hal was now 46 (Going on 47) and was dragging through his mid-life crisis. And that’s exactly how he looked. Middle-aged.

 

“Be honest, honey…. Does this suit make me look fat?”

 

Across the room, Melina smiled at him.

 

“No, it looks great on you! I’m worried about this dress though…”

 

She was wearing a pink lace party dress with a modest top and a skirt shaped like an upside-down tulip. There was also a string of pearls around her neck.

 

“Oh, you look great.”

 

Hal waltzed over, put an arm around his wife and kissed her. This was the only time they could actually look dressy; and there was an ironic fun on dressing like this once in a blue moon.

 

Hal took a moment to evoke some bygone nostalgia as well.

 

“You remember how it was back when we got married? Eli was just a baby then.”

 

Twenty-one years ago.

 

“I do!”

 

She laughed.

 

Hal swept her off her footpaws briefly before gently setting her down. Melina tickled him briefly, grinning and looking the happiest she had since dropping out of piracy at the same time Hal did in 1946.

 

Just then, they were interrupted as a nervous Charlene flew in.

 

A little less than a month shy of her seventeenth birthday, Charlene was going through the awkward phase in her teenage years now. She was glamorous and slightly ditzy; but at the same time awkward, and honestly just wanting to fit in among her fellow teens at school. She wasn’t quite emotionally mature yet, but oh, was she trying!

 

Today Charlene was dressed in a white cotton day dress with a brocade of daisies, and a pale yellow sash, and she was smiling with very meek self-confidence, but self-confidence that was THERE. Honestly, Hal was blown away at how grown-up his daughter was looking; it seemed like only yesterday she’d been little more than a defenseless kitten.

 

“Mom? Dad? Does this look good on me?”

 

She asked, walking around full circle.

 

Hal grinned and clapped her on the shoulder.

 

“You look damn snappy, that’s what- and I mean that in a good way. Charlene, you look great. Just great.”

 

Melina also offered praise:

 

“You look like an angel…. I can’t believe my little girl’s a maid of honor now.”

 

Melina shook her head in happy wonder.

 

“Really?”

 

“I mean it!”

 

Hal glanced at Charlene.

 

“Your mother’s right…. You know, feels like any day now you’ll be goin’ off to college.”

 

Charlene blushed a little. She was only in the eleventh grade; but higher education was indeed just around the corner. Suddenly feeling more self-confident about more than just appearance, Charlene left into the hallway to wait until everyone else was ready.

 

Meanwhile, in Alice’s room; the bride was having a quiet discussion with her parents. She’d still felt a need to talk to them about her marrying Jamie- even after the months that had gone by she was still in slight disbelief they’d approved it. Karnage and Grace both explained that since Alice was an adult; and was very capable of making her own decisions, and that she and Jamie had matured quite a lot, the decision to accept the marriage to begin with had always been her choice alone. And Alice was glad of that. There was no one she could think of now that she wanted to spend her life with more than Jamie Duncan.

 

Alice was dressed rather modestly in a plain, unembellished dress that had an average bodice and a tube-shaped skirt; but nonetheless it went excellently with her reddish fur that made her resemble Karnage. Her gaze glancing between Karnage and Grace, she exhaled slowly and said:

 

“I just want to say….Thank you so much for letting me marry Jamie in the first place. We always used to be terrified about what you were both going to say. But are you proud of me?”

 

Grace, wearing an ordinary and powder-blue shirtwaist dress, said to her daughter:

 

“Alice…I’m extremely proud of you. You’re just not how you used to be eight years ago; you’re all grown-up. And I feel like your father and I definitely raised you right. Well, as right as we could given the circumstances of…Your first six years.”

 

Karnage said:

 

“Me siento mas orgulloso de lo que puedas imaginar.”

 

I’m more proud of you than you can ever imagine. Alice understood, and nodded, happy tears dampening her eyes.

 

“Well, I’m ready if you two both are.”

 

Grace said, smiling.

 

Karnage bowed dramatically for an over-the-top effect.

 

“Si, si. Let us be going.”

 

Alice rolled her eyes, and said nothing as her parents departed the bedroom- she followed after them. Just as she was out of the door however, Jamie crept up from across the hallway, wearing a tuxedo that ultimately did not look half-bad. He was grinning.

 

“Jamie, you crazy showoff. It’s bad luck to see the bride before a wedding.”

 

Alice was saying in a tone of overexaggerated sternness, but she just couldn’t keep a straight face, and soon she just burst out laughing. Jamie punched her playfully in the arm. Alice punched him back, and soon they were off to meet everyone else in the lobby briefly before going out for the ceremony.

 

The wedding was to be held on the quiet lakefront out by Greenwell’s Pond. This was just as well; since it was only April and thankfully the Snobs had not yet arrived for the tourist season. One thing was for certain; this was NOT going to be like the Karnage weddings of the past: The days of lavish birthday parties, cotillions and debut balls were long gone; and even Grace and Karnage’s wedding hadn’t been entirely formal!

 

By the pond, tables of food and various drinks (both alcoholic and non) had been laid out, and as for seating arrangements; everyone settled calmly into folding chairs. Alice, however, was far from calm. Her heart was beating wildly, and she could barely hear the Justice of the peace’s orations. After all the vows were said and done however; and Alice was still nervous. And it was now time for that big question:

 

“Do you, Jamie Duncan take Alice Marina as your lawful wedded wife?”

 

Jamie forced a nervous smile himself.

 

“I do.”

 

Pearl beamed at Jamie encouragingly from where she sat.

 

“And do you, Alice Karnage take James Martin as your lawful wedded husband?”

 

Time seemed to stop. Alice blinked and took a ragged, shuddering breath. Why was this so hard for her?? Slowly, she gathered up her courage and spoke:

 

“I….I do.”

 

The Justice, a hardboiled, graying hyena named Arthur Bowman (who had married Grace and Karnage twenty-five years before), nodded, licking his muzzle. He’d wed a lot of couples in his career; nervousness was only normal. Nonetheless, he gave a smile of approval at Alice and Jamie (they looked like they needed it), and said:

 

“I now pronounce you male and wife. Congratulations, you may now kiss the bride.”

 

Jamie and Alice kissed, slowly and passionately at that. Afterwards, Alice heaved a happy sigh and grinned at Jamie, who exaggerated poise.

 

“I told you it wasn’t gonna be so hard!”

 

“Coming from the guy who’s afraid of haunted house rides…”

 

Jamie’s face reddened, but he cracked a smile anyway.

 

When Jamie tossed the garter moments later, Ratchet and Hacksaw leapt for it. Ratchet caught it and pumped his other fist in the air; grinning. After a moment, however, he dropped it and it landed on Mad Dog’s pants. The scrawny wolf jumped aside, yelping.

 

“It touched me….It touched my pants!!”

 

Everyone burst out laughing. Karnage (who was dressed in his old uniform with his cutlass sheathed and attached to his belt) attempted to reprimand them by saying:

 

“Now, now, men, let us not resort to being estupid….”

 

He failed however, as the laughter over the garter continued, and Karnage just shook his head slowly.

 

“Nobeelity ees highly overrated dese days….”

 

Hal, grinning, glanced over at Mad Dog.

 

“Well, you got the garter. Who knows, maybe you’re gonna get hitched next!”

 

Mad Dog adopted a look of exaggerated horror and shuddered.

 

Then, a bit later as the cake was cut; there was an earnest food fight with the pieces, and after that was over; Karnage made some casual conversation with Pearl, before asking Alice if she wanted to dance. It was a slow, semi-formal waltz- Ironic since minutes earlier she’d been doing the Twist with Jamie.

 

The Pirates, meanwhile, could be heard still goofing around in the background. Alice rolled her eyes and smiled.

 

“Dad, they’re so crazy.”

 

“I know dey’re loco, but dey’re de best crew any former capitain ever had.”

 

And with that, they resumed dancing.

 

As late morning gradually turned to early afternoon, it became time for the reception; and a few guests left, Pearl included (Jamie having given her a heartfelt embrace goodbye).

 

The excitement and silliness that had been such an integral part of the start of the wedding was starting to die down now, and guests mostly chatted and mingled among themselves as they discussed what to eat from the buffet.

 

Alice and Jamie had been eating cake together, and Grace and Karnage had been chatting themselves. Indeed, all seemed well. No one was aware that just at that moment, a certain someone was coming for a visit….

 

Time seemed to freeze as a certain wolfdog came up to the lakefront. He was twenty-three years old and had dark brown fur and black ears, and a wolflike tail. There was a sadistic, gleeful grin in his hazel eyes, and he was dressed casually in a white suit jacket; matching dress pants, a black shirt and a turquoise tie. Perfectly pricked ears stuck out on either side of a white fedora. He was grinning cockily as he approached, paws on his hips. Leo Karnage.

 

Leo grinned as he exclaimed:

 

“Weddings ain’t fun without a few nuts. And if what they say about me is true, I’m the worst one!”

 

He threw his head back and gave a cackling laugh. Leo got glares of iciness and uncertainty from all around, and blatant fear from Harold- the very appearance of Leo caused him to drop his glass of lemonade on the ground where it shattered.

 

“Hey, hey, Mad Dog, Ratchet! Hell, I haven’t seen you two since I was what? This tall?”

 

Leo grinned hoarsely and continued to mingle among the guests until a vicious scream rent the air:

 

“GET OUT OF HERE, YOU NO GOOD SACK OF SHIT!”

 

Leo froze in his tracks. His tail began to twitch a little, as did the rest of his body.

 

Before anyone else could reach him or do anything else, Melina darted across the grass and lunged at Leo, taking his throat in both her paws and squeezing.

 

“Does THIS feel familiar to you?”

 

Leo whimpered faintly in response.

 

Grace folded her arms and glared at him. “Welcome back, you crazy bastard.” she muttered.

 

Karnage meanwhile, was glaring viciously at his son with venomous hatred in his eyes.

 

Melina released Leo now, his throat aching.

 

“You almost killed my son, you little prick. I won’t ever forget it.”

 

“I’m not afraid of you.” Leo’s voice was an icy, lupine snarl.

 

Mad Dog produced a small pistol from his pocket and tossed it to Melina.

 

“Well how does it feel to be on the receiving end of THIS?”

 

Melina pointed the gun at Leo’s chest but did not pull the trigger.

 

“Fuck you.”

 

Leo’s voice was brittle, and almost sarcastically amused; in a bizarre way.

 

Melina pocketed the gun and grabbed Leo by the throat again, digging her claws in. “I could kill you right here, you know, and not care.”

 

Karnage meanwhile, nudged Grace.

 

“Grace! Melina’s gone loco!!!”

 

“Felipe, we can all see that by now!”

 

Grace hissed nervously.

 

“Mom, I love you!”

 

Harold’s pleading voice cut through Melina’s wrath.

 

Alice gritted her teeth. She despised her brother now; having seen years ago what he’d become, but even now how did she feel about him being murdered himself….?

 

Grace and Karnage went to Melina and Leo.

 

“Ees dees what you want, Melina? Ees eet really? You’ve served me well…..I don’t want to see you go to jail as a murderess. Despite how I feel about…Heem. Eef you steel care about de three of us, release heem.”

 

“Melina….Please, be reasonable," Grace added.

 

Melina was silent for a few moments. Then she nodded and dropped Leo.

 

“You live another day,” she choked.

 

Leo glanced at his parents; with their faces so difficult to read and churning with mixed emotion, and he grinned wickedly. “We’ll see who’s Don now!” 

In one quick motion, Leo pulled Karnage’s cutlass from his sheath and proceeded to run off with it.

 

Karnage winced.

 

Grace, meanwhile, gave Leo’s barely-visible figure the finger.

 

“Get eet back. I am not wanting anyone ennocent hurt because of heem.”

 

Karnage said to Melina.

 

But it was too late. Leo had already disappeared into a secluded Karnageport avenue, got into his ancient 1939 Nash Ambassador Eight and driven away.

 

 

Leo drove further away from Karnageport. He wasn’t driving in the direction of Cape Suzette, far from it. Hell, he didn’t know where he was going and why. All he felt was pure, undiluted RAGE at having been snubbed so badly at Alice’s wedding.

 

Ha, he’d teach those silly bastards a lesson…. Leo tightened his grip on the steering wheel and continued driving, eventually coming to a little strip of highway surrounded by pine trees. For some reason it was getting harder to concentrate on the road; and Leo’s eyes suddenly felt heavy and leaden as he tried to keep focusing.

 

A light shower of spring rain came and went, and the rumbling of thunder could be heard distantly. Leo kept driving. Suddenly, he saw a jagged flash of lightning and almost lost control of the car. He could hear Melina’s voice now; it was almost as though she were right beside him and hissing in his ear:

 

“You life’s mine, to do with as I choose….I choose to end it!”

 

Leo tried to remain indifferent, but one of his eyes was twitching. Thunder crashed again, and a deafening feline snarl echoed in his ears. In an almost slow-motion fashion, Leo lost control of the wheel, and his car went soaring off the guardrail and crashed into the base of an ancient, sap-stained pine tree. Blackness.


	3. Chapter Two

In the intermittent time period that went by, Leo found himself dreaming; and what a strange and surreal dream it was! He waltzed with an attractive two-headed vixen, sang and sang on an empty stage and was applauded by a disembodied audience, and finally knelt in front of Luciano diVenazetti and gave his ringed finger a wet, worshipping kiss. And that was where it ended.

 

When Leo woke, he recalled nothing of his dream. The front of his car had been crushed, and there was blood trickling from a gash on his forehead that seemed like it would require stitches; but that made sense seeing as he had a terrific headache. Wincing, he flung open the dented, battered right front door and staggered out.

 

A messy, uneven trail led back to the highway, but Leo knew he was in no condition to attempt to hike. His head felt like it was being split in two, and his legs felt disturbingly weak. His vision was blurred, and he felt nauseous. So the young wolfdog sat down on the grass, cross-legged. A feeling of strange, surreal euphoria filled him now. But what was it? With his head aching the way it was, it took him a moment to figure out exactly what. But then……Then he knew.

 

His father, Luciano diVenazetti, was ALIVE! Leo began to grin, subtly and slowly. How had he not realized this before?! The wolfdog laughed; and suddenly he felt a bit sad nobody was around to hear him. Oh well. Leo knew exactly what to do now, he just had to wait. Wait until he could walk before doing anything more.

 

So Leo sat there, quietly for a while. When he felt ready some time later; he limped back to the wreckage of his car and found Karnage’s cutlass still intact and unharmed. Excellent….. Leo took the cutlass and began using it to support him, like a walking stick. Oh, he loved this sword! It was a token of times bygone, that’s what it was.

Leo Karnage, (or Landino diVenazetti, if you will) walked, slowly but surely down the trail and back onto the main road; hitchhiking and in hot pursuit of someone who could take him to the nearest hospital for medical attention. But only medical……

 

 

Eventually, the tables and chairs were hauled back to the hotel lobby; where they’d been rented from- the remaining, uneaten food was disposed of. A nervous, somber group consisting of Karnage, Grace, his former crew, Alice, Jamie, Elisa and Rosa headed off to the conference room; while Harold and Charlene drifted towards their shared suite.

 

Melina fled to her and Hal’s room as soon as everyone got in, and Hal went after her. Upon knocking on the door, there was no response. Hal waited a few moments. Nothing. He tried opening the door himself, and fortunately it was open. And what greeted him was an atmosphere of loneliness and pure, unsaturated silence.

 

The slightly-chipping orange wallpaper told no secrets, and the still life painting of apples on the wall seemed crooked. The TV set (A few rooms in the hotel were outfitted with television by 1960; but it was an expensive affair indeed, and most likely it would remain as was for now until televisions became more affordable) The bed, with its graceful vintage frame and lush green sheets, was perfectly untouched, and there was no blood or any sort of struggle on the carpets. Thankfully.

 

But Hal knew there was something wrong…..It was just too. Damn. Quiet.

 

“Melina?”

 

He muttered.

 

A faint moan came from the adjoining bathroom; though the door was shut. Hal didn’t hesitate in flinging it open. Melina was sprawled on the floor within, unmoving.

 

“MELINA!”

 

Panicked, Hal dropped to the floor and knelt beside her. She blinked her eyes open after a few moments and whimpered softly.

 

“Melina, honey, wake up….”

 

Hal coaxed her gently.

 

Melina raised her head slightly. When she spoke, her voice was a barely audible whisper:

 

“Tried to protect…Harold…..Didn’t….What’s wrong with me??”

 

She broke off into sobs.

 

“Melina, come back.”

 

It agonized Hal to see his wife in such despair. They had always supported each other.

 

“Hal….”

 

She went on.

 

“I love him…. Don’t know what t’do….Why?”

 

“Why what?”

 

No answer. Melina blacked out.

 

Hal carried her out of the bathroom and laid her on the bed.

 

After a little less than fifteen minutes, Melina woke. Hal sighed and stroked her paw.

 

“Melina, I want the old you back… The panther I married, raised children with….”

 

Melina shakily sat up.

 

“I want to be back too… I just can’t forget! What can I do about him?”

 

“Harold?”

 

“Yes!”

 

Melina began to cry again.

 

“Melina, Melina, he’s okay! That sick bastard didn’t try to hurt him again, and frankly that’s all that matters. To me anyway.”

 

“I don’t know what to do!”

 

Hal shook his head dejectedly.

 

“I know, and I’m sorry there’s not much I can do about it.”

 

Melina wiped her tears and took some brief moments to compose herself.

 

“It’s LEO’s fault, not Grace’s or the Captain’s…..”

 

“Aww, quit bashin’ yourself like that.”

 

Melina didn’t answer, sniffling instead. Hal kissed her briefly and remained with his wife even after she drifted off to sleep.

 

At the time Hal was comforting Melina; Karnage and Rosa were in the lobby, talking. Rosa, who (along with Elisa) had not learned of Leo’s madness until now; but neither had anyone else with the exception of Grace, Karnage, the Barnharts and Alice, so this was a whole new ball game for everyone, really.

 

“Felipe, I just don’t get it. What the HELL is wrong with that son of yours?”

 

Rosa felt a bit ashamed of herself now; having not been active in her brother’s life the past eight years even though they’d reconciled their differences nearly twenty years ago. The last she’d heard from his family was that Alice had graduated college; and that had been last year.

 

“He’s no son of mine. Not anymore.”

 

Karnage’s voice was icy.

 

“What started all this?”

 

“….Eight years ago, Leo tried to keel Melina’s son. And then, he went de word and keeled someone else…. Que puta no es hijo mio!”

 

That fucking piece of shit is no son of mine.

 

Rosa hesitated. She was not a big fan of Karnage’s temper (But then again, who was?!), and was not sure if she should intervene it.

 

So, instead she asked:

 

“Do you know what caused Leo to….Lose it in the first place?”

 

“I weesh I knew.”

 

“Do you feel like it’s your fault, Felipe?”

 

“Si. I know I deedn’t fail Alicia…..Or Daniel.”

 

A long pause. Rosa did not speak. When she did after a great while, she said:

 

“You going to look for him now?”

 

“Si.”

 

And with that, Karnage turned and disappeared down the hallway.

 

~

 

Karnage, Grace, and Alice (accompanied by Mad Dog and Dumptruck) searched the highway Leo had taken; though of course unaware that he had passed through. In the end, there wasn’t even a trace of him in the area- the wreckage of his car had long been towed and hauled away. In the end, they returned to Karnageport having found nothing.

 

 

The day went on, and as evening fell, Leo sat wordlessly at the back of a beat-up 50’s car, switchblade in his pocket in case of trouble. He still had a bit of a headache, but he’d passed through a small town once he’d gotten past the highway, and had been treated in their emergency room. A minor concussion, nothing more. After that he’d gotten back onto the next highway he could find, and had gone hitchhiking.

 

After about fifteen minutes, Leo was picked up by a shady-looking middle-aged male skunk, who was driving this very pickup truck. Leo couldn’t recall his driver as having introduced himself, but that was just as well- the only thing he’d mentioned was about how he was driving to some large city, and hadn’t mentioned which one. Or even what state for that matter. But at the time he’d been picked up; Leo hadn’t cared. He’d just climbed into the backseat and fallen asleep, and that had been that.

 

But now, a sign was in visible: MONTVER STATE LINE. HARRASON, HALF A MILE.

 

Leo’s eyes widened and he let out a displeased yelp.

 

“Montver?!”

 

He hissed.

 

“We’re in MONTVER??”

 

In the front seat, the skunk shrugged casually and brought the car to a stop on the left side of the road.

 

“Kid, you were hitchhikin’ so I picked you up, and this was where I was goin’. Plain and simple. As a matter of fact…..”

 

He chuckled a bit.

 

“The ride stops here.”

 

Leo grinned slyly.

 

“Good.”

 

He patted his pocket, comforted by the familiar feeling of his switch, and got out.

 

“You know….Thanks for the ride. Thanks a lot.”

 

He took a slow step towards the front door.

 

The driver shrugged.

 

“It was nothing.”

 

Leo got his switchblade out of his pocket and clicked it. He then flung the left front door open and in one vicious, swift movement sank the blade into the skunk’s throat. Barely, just barely, he managed to hit the jugular. But he hit it, and it was enough. The other animal looked at his charge with a confused, hazy look, twitched once, and then quickly expired, the wound having spurted quite a lot of blood.

 

Leo gave a happy laugh. He had committed this murder for one reason, and one reason alone: He couldn’t possibly let anyone find him. If the police were looking for him in the area; they’d surely check for witnesses, and Leo couldn’t risk having someone around who could identify his face, especially in the middle of nowhere. In the city, he’d blend right in- all he had to do was get a hotel or motel somewhere and keep his reactions with the staff (And if seen, other guests) to a bare minimum.

 

Putting his bloody switchblade into his pocket, Leo wasted no time in hiding the body in a nearby reservoir. Then, he skipped away in the direction of Harasson. A little later night, he went into a very cheap motel and flung open a random bedroom door. He killed the occupant in their sleep, again, with his switchblade, pocketed his weapon and climbed out the window (This worked perfectly since the motel had only one floor!), totally confident the police would be unable to link and decipher his two killings.

 

The morning of April 27th came around. There was a bitter presence in the air as all members of the wedding party left Karnageport for their respective homes. Alice and Jamie went to Alice’s house-- Now THEIR house; since after some negotiation, Jamie had put his home on the market, sold it, and moved in with Alice-- in the small, quiet town of Morstoke that was twenty miles west of Southshire.

 

Jamie had sold his house two months ago and moved in with Alice then, but there was just something different about living together now that they were a married couple and no longer mere fiancées. There was suddenly an atmosphere in the air of all-around joy; but also one of awkwardness: Their relationship would get significantly more intimate starting now, and this was only just the beginning. But they could do it. Of course they could!

 

That night, Alice was sitting comfortably in bed, wearing lavender-and-white plaid pajamas, waiting for Jamie to finish watching television in the living room and turn in for the night himself. Alice grinned a little, because she could envision exactly what Jamie was watching as he changed the channels because faintly, the sounds of the TV carried over from the living room and into their bedroom:

 

The sound of crazed gunfire and exaggerated screaming typically meant it was a western; lots of sobbing and clichéd dialogue was a soap opera, and bouncy, cheerful tunes signaled that it was either an advertisement for some commercial project, or a rather forgettable children’s show.

 

There was a brief period of cut-off sounds as Jamie changed the channel a few times before finally stopping. After a few moments, Alice could hear some corny one-liners and some very obvious canned laughter, and smiled to herself. A sitcom; so stupid it was entertaining.

 

After a few moments, Alice returned to glancing through a notebook on the bedside table containing notes and drafts on the science-fiction story she was trying to get published. Starting as a preteen; Alice had had an intense love for the short stories published in pulp magazines, and knew that someday, she wanted to do something similar to that; just less clichéd.

 

So far, it was not going well. She’d been working on this still-untitled novel for six months now, and all she’d gotten so far was a little less than fifty pages of notes on characters and setting. Still, it was far better than nothing and Alice was unwilling to let her project go just yet, and with this in mind, she took the notepad and began reading through her latest ideas (written in two days ago) to see if there was anything she needed to change.

 

Seven minutes later, by the time Alice was done looking over earlier notes, Jamie had come in, wearing a very pale yellow set of cotton pajamas, looking weary. Alice flicked off the small lamp on the bedside table as Jamie joined her on the bed, taking time to draw the thick coverlet around them.

 

“You okay, Jamie?” she inquired, thoughtfully, noting something haggard in Jamie’s eyes.

 

Jamie was quiet a while, glancing back at Alice. Alice felt her spirits dampen just a little- She knew what Jamie was probably thinking about, and it was the negative aspect of their day: Despite the fact that they were now married, the happiness of it all had been spoiled by the fact that Leo had shown up on the wedding, and had held nothing back in presenting himself as the monster he was, but didn’t see himself as.

 

Jamie shook his head. “It was….What happened at the wedding," he choked. “I had no idea your brother was such a crazy bastard.”

 

Alice leaned into the pillows, feeling guilt.

 

“Look, I’m sorry I never told you. Leo ran away from home the beginning of our tenth grade year- I don’t know what rumor was going on in school at the time about what happened to him, but my parents and I, we just never talked about it. It was something we all wanted to forget. I didn’t tell you while we were dating in college because……Really, none of us had any idea where the hell Leo was at the time; we didn’t even know for sure if he was even still alive. I’m not gonna exaggerate: His crashing the wedding was….A total nightmare. Plain and simple.”

 

“How’d he get that way?”

 

Jamie inquired.

 

Alice heaved a slow breath.

 

“Jamie, I wish I knew. When we were kids, Leo was always a little quiet, but that’s just how he was. Until we were teenagers, then he started getting…..Strange. He had this weird obsession with fire, and whenever I saw him in the hallway at school he’d always be with some girl who’d scream because he tried to look up her skirt. Once I walked past his room; he’d left the door open and there was a porn magazine on his bed.” Alice shook her head now. “I was laughing then. Hell, it’d still be funny now if Leo wasn’t what he was.”

 

“Shit happens.”

 

Jamie’s voice portrayed a dog who’d gone through a world of suffering. And he had, at least where his paternal history and with Alice was concerned.

 

“Alice, I’d give you advice but I’m just not damn well sure what to say.”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

She smiled slyly, and kissed him briefly. Jamie, his mood lifted just a little, smiled a bit and kissed her back.

 

Both were feeling significantly more peaceful as they later drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms. This was only the beginning of many more, happy married nights.

 

The following morning, Alice and Jamie were sitting in the kitchen; having just eaten breakfast, when the phone on the kitchen counter rang. Alice bolted from her chair to pick it up, grinning victoriously when she did.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hi, Alice. This is Pearl.”

 

Alice frowned, wondering why Jamie’s mother had suddenly called.

 

“There’s something I’d like to tell you.”

 

“What’s that, ma’am?”

 

On the other end of the line, Pearl sighed a bit.

 

“Just come to my house, both of you. There’s something I want to tell you.”

 

“Okay, we’ll be right there. Goodbye.”

 

Alice hung up.

 

Turning to Jamie, she said:

 

“That was your mother, she wants us to come to her place.”

 

Jamie too, looked surprised.

 

“Did she say why?”

 

“No, but she was hinting it was important. We should go.”

 

Alice left the room to change out of her pajamas, while Jamie sighed and wondered what it was his mother could want. He lingered for a moment, but his now-empty plate in the sink and went off to do the same.

 

In the end, Alice and Jamie took Jamie’s Dodge to Pearl’s house. They parked on a quiet street corner before going to meet her at the door. Alice knocked quietly a few times before Pearl answered the door, in an argyle sweater and a full skirt; the longer skirt being a mark of her older age in an era where nowadays, adolescent females and ones right around Alice’s age began shunning 50’s skirts because they covered more leg.

 

Alice and Jamie greeted Pearl, and she led them in, looking (if anything) a bit sad beneath her plastered-on smile. In the kitchen, Alice and Jamie both sat while Pearl took a letter beside a discarded envelope on the counter and held it in one paw, turning to them and saying:

 

“My great-uncle Cedric, Jamie, your great-great uncle recently passed away. He left behind his house in Scozia to his family in Usland.”

 

Jamie vaguely remembered Cedric- he was a distant figure in Jamie’s life: He lived in the distant country of Scozia, and had once worked for a very rich, noble family of foxes called the Rathblairs before eventually retiring. While he’d never called once, he was liable to send postcards and short letters around holidays and Jamie and Pearl’s birthdays, and that was the only interaction Jamie had had with his great-great uncle.

 

Turning to a slightly-disoriented looking Alice, Jamie explained:

 

“I never met uncle Cedric, he’d just send letters every now and then. He was a bit eccentric and crap like that.”

 

Alice folded her arms and gave a mock scowl.

 

“You never tell me anything about your family!”

 

Jamie laughed aloud, and Pearl managed a smile. It was great to see those two together.

 

But then, a silence unfolded about the room. Pearl took a moment to add:

 

“At the bottom of the letter, there was a postscript: It said that if any of Cedric’s next-of-kin wanted to come to Scozia they’d be welcome.”

 

She shook her head.

 

“As sure as hell it won’t be me, but you two are welcome to it.”

 

Then, Pearl put the letter (Which had been written by Cedric’s former employer, Lord Gordon Rathblair, who had found how to contact her in Usland) back on the counter.

 

Turning to look both Jamie and Alice in the eye, Pearl added:

 

“If you want to know more, take this. You’re both welcome to go home now.”

 

Pearl held the letter out, and Alice took it and departed out towards the car. She called:

 

“If you have anything else to tell your mom, just make it quick. I can’t wait here all day.”

 

“Got it.”

 

Alice left, and Jamie was about to follow her out the door, but then Pearl spoke again.

 

“Jamie? There’s something else I have to tell you.”

 

The saddened, bitter look on Pearl’s face was far more evident now. Jamie went to her and put a supportive paw on her shoulder.

 

“What?”

He whispered, her misery palpable.

 

“Just wait a minute.”

 

Pearl led Jamie to the living room, and then briefly searched through a stack of Lives magazines, one of the few publications she had a subscription to. Picking up what seemed to be the most recent one from the pile, Pearl dropped it on the coffee table in front of Jamie. It had yesterday’s date on it, and in white captioning on the upper right-hand corner it read:

 

One-shot boy genius of the 30’s dead! See pg. 60.

 

Pearl flipped through the magazine before settling on page 60. Jamie felt nauseated, because right on the centerfold of that first page of the article; there was an old, black-and-white photo of a dog he resembled somewhat (though their fur colors were blatantly different), and Jamie’s fears were confirmed when Pearl whispered:

 

“That’s your father.”

 

And retreated back to her own chair as Jamie wordlessly pored over the article. It read:

 

It’s a sad but strange day here in Cape Suzette; two days ago the body of former inventor and college professor Martin Torque was found in his downtown apartment. There was a single gunshot wound to the head, and what appeared to be a suicide note but only a mess of illegible scrawls was found near Torque. He appeared to have been dead for more than one day already when his landlord had stumbled upon the body by accident; coming to the apartment when the dog had STILL not paid his rent.

 

Torque, sixty-one, had quite a checkered history; as those familiar with him will know. Growing up in Old York City, he got his first teaching position at the respectable St. Darren’s college here in Cape Suzette, but was forced to leave during the fall of 1937 when the university heads had had quite enough of his eccentricity following the failure of his ‘auto-aviator’, which had almost sent the aviation industry as we know it into a downward spiral.

 

Following this unfortunate incident, Torque spent three months in Thembria before returning to Usland before the year was out. For the past twenty-five years following his exile from St. Darren’s, Torque never had a stable job again, and spent the past few decades in and out of unemployment. Moving into the Elm Run apartment complex in 1953, where he lived until his demise; neighbors knew Torque as a very eccentric and even slightly deranged tenant who would become infamous playing his records far too loud at night, keeping up his weary neighbors.

 

As for the cause of Torque’s apparent suicide; we can only imagine. After what happened at St. Darren’s his mental stability was something he unfortunately kissed good-bye. Torque’s funeral was held yesterday evening with a very small turnout of a few of his former students. He has no known next-of-kin but is rumored to be survived by an estranged former girlfriend and an illegitimate son.

 

Jamie’s vision blurred, and bile rose in his throat.

 

“Mom, I gotta go.”

 

He croaked.

 

His head spinning, Jamie wasn’t sure what to feel as he ran out of the living room, out of the house, and went to meet Alice in the car.


	4. Chapter Three

Jamie ran from his mother’s house, feeling bitter and downright ashamed for the way that article had talked about him and Pearl. On a happier note, he was glad that Torque was dead- his father had been little more than a pathetic and self-isolating deadbeat. But then again, if Torque had never met Pearl then Jamie would never have existed. The same could be said if Pearl had opted to get an abortion.

Feeling uneasy with all these disordered and messy thoughts occupying his mind, Jamie made a beeline for the Dodge and sat down beside Alice, waiting in the driver’s seat and thankful she’d be driving them back- Jamie doubted he was in any emotional state to focus on the wheel right now.

 

“Jamie! Are you okay?”

 

Alice commented, noting Jamie’s distressed expression.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. I guess.”

 

He sighed and took a deep breath.

 

Alice hesitated in driving, but Jamie waved her off.

 

“You can start driving, let’s just go home.”

 

Alice shrugged, put in the ignition key and pulled away from Pearl’s street.

 

“Jamie, I don’t want to pry but what did your mom want to talk to you about? You can tell me, I’ll listen!”

 

Jamie shook his head.

 

“I just found out my old man finally kicked the bucket. Not that I’m not glad the bastard’s dead, but I don’t wanna sound like an asshole myself either.”

 

“Keep going…..”

 

Jamie hesitated.

 

“My mom, she…. She showed me a write-up in a magazine about my old man’s death. And here’s where it gets crappier: ME AND HER GOT A MENTION! At the very end. It said something like ‘Torque is apparently survived by an estranged girlfriend and illegitimate son.’”

 

Jamie sighed.

 

If it was one thing he did NOT want to go be written up in tabloid columns as, it was Professor Martin Torque’s secret love child; such things filled Jamie with a burning embarrassment, and shame.

 

“Jamie, your old man sounds like an evil son of a bitch to me. That’s my opinion on it.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yes, it is. I mean, he just walked out on your mother like that and never even gave a reason. I can see why he killed himself.”

 

Alice paused, gathering her emotions.

 

“I think we should both just move on.”

 

And given what had happened with Leo back in 1955, moving on from unpleasant events were things Alice was acquainted with.

 

“Yeah. That’d be best.”

 

For a while, a silence passed between the two, before Alice spoke.

 

“You know, I looked over that letter from Lord Rathblair. Your uncle’s house in Scozia seems like a good place to honeymoon.”

 

Jamie smiled slyly, feeling his spirits brighten a bit.

 

“You know what, now that you mention it, I don’t see why we SHOULDN’T go…..”

 

“We could dig the foreign scene. Let’s haul ass and go!”

 

Alice teased.

 

Jamie groaned in mock annoyance.

 

“Don’t get started on the slang now…..”

 

“And WHO says you’re the boss of me?”

 

“I do!”

 

“Bull.”

 

Laughing and feeling much less ill at ease, Alice and Jamie drove off home.

 

Morning passed and faded into afternoon. In a nondescript house exactly right of Alice and Jamie’s, an Irish setter named Ferghus O’Canavan was bored. He had recently been assigned by his boss, Leo Karnage, to spy on Leo’s sister and his brother-in-law. For what purpose, Leo had not said but Ferghus was unsurprised. His boss had a high tendency to get what he wanted- why else would he have been in charge?

 

When he’d taken up the post a week and a half ago Ferghus had been curious at first, just to see what the job might entail, but now he was completely sick of being trapped in this boring and seemingly endless assignment that didn’t seem to have a payoff. Or did it….? Sitting in the dining room, Ferghus recalled exactly WHAT Leo had told him to do. Watch Alice and Jamie, especially take note of their whereabouts and CALL if there was any major change.

 

For obvious reasons Ferghus could only do this from a very broad distance, but this particular case might be an exception: Leo had called the night before and mentioned something about how Alice and Jamie had just gotten married, and to call back if Ferghus had heard anything about their honeymoon. But thus far, he had not.

 

With a sigh, Ferghus opened the dining room windows to let in some fresh air. It was a relatively sedating spring afternoon, and he was grateful for some decent, relaxing weather at least. But what had momentarily slipped his mind was the fact that from his dining room he could see into Alice and Jamie’s kitchen, and hear what they were discussing as well.

 

“So, when will we be going to Scozia?”

 

“I was thinking in, uh, maybe a week.”

 

“Fine by me. I was thinking we could maybe spend the summer too…..”

 

Ferghus’s eyes widened. He kept listening, and hurriedly dashed away from the window itself but managed to stay within listening range without the possibility of being spotted. The setter listened when a cottage ‘on Rathblair land’ was mentioned. Rathblair. That sounded like the name of some prominent family or another; surely they wouldn’t be that hard to find. The dog ran upstairs to his bedroom, grabbed the phone, and dialed Leo’s Cape Suzette apartment number.

 

In Cape Suzette, Leo was sprawled on the safety of his apartment couch, happily home after having taken several Blackhound buses from Montver to Old York. He had partially nodded off after drinking a few beers in celebration, and had not been expecting Ferghus’s call. Nonetheless, he was prompt to answer:

 

“Hello?”

 

“Boss? It’s me.”

 

Leo smiled groggily. He was in charge of a disorganized, small crime ring made up of twelve creatures in total, based in Cape Suzette. Leo had higher aspirations, yes, but for now it would have to suffice.

“Yeah, I can tell. I’m not THAT hung over. Not yet.”

 

He chuckled hoarsely.

 

On his end of the line, Ferghus paused uncertainly before continuing.

 

“Look, I listened in on your sister and her husband and I think I have some dirt you’ll want.”

 

“Then tell me, I’ll listen.”

 

“Okay, so I think it’s gonna be like this…..”

 

When Ferghus had told Leo everything he’d heard, Leo nodded.

 

“I’m gonna follow them. Thanks.”

 

“When’re you going?”

 

Leo scowled.

 

“It’s not your business, asshole! Leave the house as soon as possible and get back to Cape Suzette. I suggest you take a train.”

 

And with that, Leo hung up. He sighed happily and leaned back. Revenge was getting so much closer now. Some said that revenge was sweet, but Leo didn’t like it that way. Sweet revenge was cliché and intoxicating, not to mention it rotted your teeth! What Leo preferred was a sour, venomous and bitter, creeping revenge. An act that would simply make him glow with happiness from head to footpaw when he was done. THAT was the kind of revenge he enjoyed.

 

Why did he want revenge? Leo honestly did believe he was the son of Luciano diVenazetti. In addition to that, he also wanted any and all members of his ‘birth’ family killed, not excluding anyone who’d married into it (Hence his yearning to see Jamie dead as well). Yes, Leo was confident he would get his revenge. All he needed now was patience.

 

~

 

Meanwhile, Alice and Jamie of course, were painfully unaware of all this as they continued to prepare for the honeymoon. The following Saturday, May 4th, they traveled to the nearest airport with suitcases in tow, and flew to Scozia on a jet plane, which were starting to become popular the past few years.

 

Recreational flying wasn’t affordable for everyone however, and while they’d been preparing to leave over the past week the couple had pooled money left over from their college funds, as well as borrowed some from their parents. All in all, it was enough to afford the flight to Scozia and later, the flight back. Both Jamie and Alice boarded the plane fully aware that it would be a very long time before they ever took a vacation like this again, if they ever did so. But neither had any regrets. This was going to be worth it.

 

On the plane, young and miniskirted stewardesses roamed the aisles, and the smell of tobacco from haphazardly seated cigarette smokers was in the air. At around noon, Alice and Jamie ordered lunch, which Alice bitterly commented tasted no better than cardboard. Oh well. Not long after their trays had been removed, Alice fell asleep facing the window and wondering what would await her and Jamie when they got to Scozia.

 

When the plane landed in Evensburgh, it was midnight in Scozia. Upon disembarking, Alice had a headache thanks to jet lag and had to buy some over-the-counter pain relievers- thankfully a pharmacy outside the airport took Uslandian money, as was made obvious by the fact most of the customers seemed to be tourists.

 

Jamie and Alice then wasted no time in asking where the Rathblair land might be. The unanimous consensus was that it was forty miles past city limits, in the more peaceful countryside. With this in mind, the two then exchanged their money for the Scozian currency, and checked in to an inconspicuous bed and breakfast for the night, exhausted.

 

 

Meanwhile, in a 1680s mansion outside the village of Stowhaven, Lord Gordon Rathblair was tense. The fifty-nine-year-old fox was seated in a 1920s-style, plush lounge chair, leaning back with a look of idleness. Wearing a light orange smoking jacket and lounging trousers, Gordon was aging gracefully; there were few white hairs to be seen in his dark brown fur with its hues of deep red. Across the room from him, sat his forty-three-year-old trophy wife, Catherine, a Himalyan wolf from Usland.

 

Catherine’s fur was mostly a pale, grayish-cream colored, but there was some darker mottling on her face and like Gordon’s, her eyes were a warm brown. Still fully dressed at this hour, she wore a simple, black wiggle dress with a pattern of white flowers, as well as a necklace of pink pearls. There was a bitter scowl on her face, as usual. Gordon tried not to acknowledge that as he spoke:

 

“I heard a rumor, Catherine, dear, that some of old Cedric’s Uslandian relatives may be moving into his cottage soon.”

 

“And why are you telling me this, Gordy?”

 

Gordon winced at the hated nickname.

 

“Oh, no reason. I just thought that might interest you.”

 

Catherine was indifferent, and shrugged.

 

“It’s all the same to me. Just make sure they don’t find out about….”

 

The two exchanged looks. This was the only topic over which they could comfortably converse.

 

Gordon nodded wordlessly.

 

“I’ll see to that. And so will Amanda.”

 

By Amanda, he meant their badger housekeeper, Mandie Underwood, who’d been working there since she was a 14-year-old serving girl in 1938 after her mother, Marianne’s retirement.

 

“Good.”

 

Catherine rose and departed towards the door of the smoking room, stretching.

 

“I’m going to bed, I could care less if you do.”

 

Gordon rolled his eyes and lingered after she’d left, sighing. He had married Catherine only for her money and not out of love. Having a child with her just wasn’t possible; and even now the money he’d gotten off her wealthy family members in Usland was beginning to dry up. Sooner or later, something would need to be done to get Catherine out of the way. Eliminate her. Eliminate her and find a vixen who could give him the next Lord Rathblair.

 

But Gordon was not intended to BE Lord Rathblair in the first place, absolutely not. Let’s backtrack and return to the beginning…..

 

On the gloomy day of September 23rd, 1903, Lady Kathleen Rathblair of Scozia went into labor three days early. A fragile and unconfident black vixen, Kathleen screamed in anguish as the labor pains ripped through her.

 

Her husband, Lord Gregory Rathblair sat at her side, gravely coaching her to push until what seemed like the head and ears of the baby were emerging. Kathleen quieted. Silence. Minutes ticked by. Only once, once did Kathleen peek beneath the sheets to look at her child, flinched weakly, and quickly drew them back. Gregory could not quite see his new son or daughter, and his curiosity and tension were ever mounting.

 

“Kathleen? Kathleen, love, are you done yet?”

 

The vixen gave an exhausted nod.

 

“…..Is it a boy?”

 

Again she nodded yes.

 

“Then go on. Show me the little lad, he’s surely smothering under all those blankets there…..”

 

Kathleen’s eyes dampened and she hastily wiped at her face, suddenly looking very afraid.

 

“Gregory….”

 

She whispered.

 

“I’ve birthed an atrocity.”

 

“What?!”

 

Without another word, Kathleen peeled back the bloodstained floral quilt to reveal the most deformed child Gregory had ever seen:

 

The newborn fox indeed was male, and as all fox cubs were; his eyes were fused shut. Because both his parents were red foxes by species (Though both their colors were very rare and only achieved through genetic mutations), he was also covered by a very light covering of fluffy, baby fur: It was a very, very dark brown with reddish undertones. A black stripe ran down his back, and his tail-tip was white. But that was where the normalcy ended.

 

The baby’s footpaws were deformed and appeared to have been put on backwards by some mad surgeon, and on his left paw there were only three fingers, whereas on the right there were eight. His eyes appeared to be sunken into his skull in addition. At the end of his snout, there were two twitching black slits where his nose should have been. Only the steady rise and fall of his chest confirmed to Gregory he was alive.

 

“….Kathleen….. You mean to say that this, this THING is to be the next Lord Rathblair?!”

 

He snarled.

 

“You’re forgetting I still have one more!”

 

Kathleen grated, as a fresh slash of pain shot through her abdomen.

 

Gregory, meanwhile, blushed. He’d been so caught up in the horror that was his first and now eldest child, the fact that Kathleen was pregnant with twins had slipped out of his train of thought.

 

“But what if it’s a girl??”

 

“Then we’ll see.”

 

Kathleen leaned back into the pillows, breathing hard.

 

“Where’s the damned midwife? And the doctor, for that matter?”

 

She rasped.

 

Gregory sighed exhaustedly.

 

“The last I heard the storm delayed them. That was about five minutes before you started labor.”

 

Kathleen grimaced and emitted a choked-off screech as the labor progressed- this was an era when few creatures but the wealthy had automobiles, and most everyone continued to travel as they always had: By footpaw, (or if long distance, by train or boat).

 

Gregory walked to the side of the room and wordlessly took a bejeweled, ceremonial and dust-caked dagger off its wooden wall plaque and cut Kathleen’s umbilical cord. She didn’t feel it of course, and Gregory retreated back to his wicker chair, muttering words of encouragement and reluctantly holding the miscreation he’d have to regard as his son.

 

It took another fifteen minutes until Gregory and Kathleen’s other child entered the world. Blessedly, he turned out to be male as well. Even sweeter was the fact that he seemed physically normal in every way. At last, Gregory felt a lucky swell of pride as he held this perfect child who had the same reddish (specifically named burgundy) fur as his brother and father.

 

“I think that we should call him Gordon.”

 

Kathleen said with a little smile after Gregory had cut the cord.

 

“Yes, perfect….. I like it.”

 

“But what about his……Brother?”

 

Gregory stiffened.

 

“Must we become so attached, Kathleen?”

 

He whispered, offhandedly.

 

“Just a formality.”

 

Was her response.

 

“With any luck he’ll die soon anyway, and that’s just as well. A freak of nature like that cannot be named Lord Rathblair, let alone even shown to anyone beyond our home boundaries.”

 

After a nervous pause Kathleen added:

 

“Creatures would make negative judgments about our moral character, wouldn’t they?”

 

Gregory was silent. His wife was right.

 

He nodded slowly.

 

“Aye. They would. Then in that case….. We shall simply call him Malachy.”

 

“Malachy it is.”

 

Both foxes were startled as a sharp rapping came from the door.

 

“M’lord? Milday?”

 

“That’d be the doctor.”

 

Gregory hissed to Kathleen.

 

In the direction of the door he called:

 

“COMING!”

 

Turning back to his wife, he said:

 

“Don’t worry. I’ll hide Malachy.”

 

Strutting to the closet, Gregory hurriedly flung the door open and glanced up at the top shelf, where he found one of Kathleen’s good hatboxes. Upon opening it, he found it was sans the hat. Good. Carefully, Gregory deposited Malachy’s bloody form into the box (discarding the lid on the closet floor), placed it back on the shelf, and shut the door before hurrying out of the room, slamming that door behind him as well.

 

Kathleen grimly listened to the conversation that ensued between Gregory and the doctor from the vantage point of her bed.

 

“WHAT IN HELL TOOK YOU?!”

 

“Sire, sire, I cannot control the weather, no more than you can. The rain was absolutely brutal! I’ll have you know several villages in this area are practically flooded out.”

 

“That’s unfortunate but I’ve no time to worry about commoners…… I had to cut my wife’s umbilical cord by myself! With a dagger!”

 

“Then would you please let me examine her now that I’m here?”

 

“Yes, yes, of course I will….But there is one formality you must regard first.”

 

“That being?”

 

“Our first son, Malachy was…..Stillborn. Perhaps if you and your assistant had gotten here sooner something could have been done.”

 

Kathleen’s ears pricked forward at Gregory’s feigned sobs of grief- he was a better actor than she’d known.

 

“Milord, I’m very sorry. This must be such a great loss for you and the Scozian peerage as a whole.”

 

Gregory sniffled a bit. Kathleen smiled.

 

“Oh yes…..It’s just….There are no words. But I don’t want to stall you any longer. Go and see Kathleen- and forgive my outburst- I was acting merely out of grief.”

 

And with that, the door clicked open and Kathleen allowed herself to be looked at.

 

~

 

As afternoon went on and Kathleen and Gregory were once again alone, they knew there was only one creature in the household they could currently trust with their secret: their housekeeper, a sturdy twenty-five-year-old badger named Marianne Underwood.

 

Kathleen knew Gregory had told Marianne this because her husband favored the badger far greater than their other servants. What he saw in bitter, sharp-tongued but nonetheless earnest Marianne Kathleen could only guess at, but she too had a feeling Marianne was someone they could trust. If not, then she would be bribed into being trustable.

 

The arrangement was carried out as follows: Until a nursemaid able to take care of Malachy could be located, Marianne would, for a time, act as his wet nurse of sorts. For obvious reasons she could not actually nurse him, no, but instead, with the aid of a small glass, fed him milk (bought from a village farmer’s market) off a tiny silver spoon.

 

In a cramped, dusty room hidden behind a bookcase in the library, Marianne would go and provide reluctant care for this child that was not hers. At first repulsed by his malformed physical appearance, she soon began to feel an instinctive affection for Malachy- after all; he was just a baby as any other.

 

So Marianne adapted to sitting there in the dark, musty room by herself (Being alone was not something she was accustomed to- she worked for the Rathblairs all day, five days a week, and had been married for two years now), feeding and generally caring for Malachy while sitting in a squeaky rocking chair, the room lit by only a few sparsely-placed candles. Marianne had been informed by Gregory that this room had existed since the late 17th century, when members of the family had used it to torture and execute prisoners from rivaling clans. And as far as Marianne could tell, it certainly looked like a prison!

 

However, after two weeks Marianne was notified that Kathleen and Gordon had at last found a nursemaid for Malachy who seemed to be a creature they could trust. She was dismissed from visiting Malachy in the library room, though after he was old enough to eat solid food she was allowed to deliver his meals, but after a little less than a year cut off contact altogether. The physically flawed but sweet child in that room had damn well broken her heart.

 

As for Gordon though, life was different. He spent the first ten years of his life sleeping and playing in the nursery that had originally been intended for him and his brother. But at age ten he was deemed too old for a nanny (and elsewhere, in the library, so was Malachy) and moved to a regular bedroom a floor above. Many servants dreaded the approach of Kathleen and Gregory’s son; he had always been a very spoiled child, which made him especially liable to get into trouble- he had almost drowned in the backyard pond at age two.

 

As he went through preadolescence and then to his teens, it rapidly became apparent that this was how Gordon was: Wherever he was, trouble was never far behind. And so, it went that it was Gordon who got the privileges; went to boarding school as soon as he was old enough, entertained guests with his mother’s skillful assistance, and learned to fence as a hobby. All the while, his brother, his OLDER brother who should have received such things as well; was rotting away in his murky little room behind a bookcase.

 

Malachy did not go outside; not even for Gordon’s 1951 wedding to Catherine Monroe. And so it continued, the two brothers; one embracing life in the world beyond the family land, and the other, forever doomed to remain the misshapen oddity in that secret room in the library. Such was the story of Gordon and Malachy Rathblair. Until now.

 

~ Back to the present ~

 

Now, Gordon lingered on the carpeted stairs leading up to his bedroom, wondering if he should pay a visit to his malformed older brother. After a moment’s pause, he gave a light chuckle and decided against it.

 

Meanwhile, in her own bedroom, Catherine softly shut the door behind her and emotionlessly changed into pajamas before crawling into bed and pulling the cool sheets around her. Embittered and wistful, she began to think of her own past.

 

Catherine (Monroe) Rathblair was born on June 1st, 1919 in Old York City to wolves John Purvis Monroe (a wealthy oil baron) and Delia (Foreman) Monroe, a serpent-tongued young debutante. As a young child, Catherine rarely saw her parents and spent her first six years mostly in the care of her nanny before being sent to boarding school in the fall of 1925. When she was twelve, Catherine discovered she loved to play violin and begged her parents to buy her one when she turned thirteen. Catherine got her wish, and with lessons, became an adept player. So much, that she began to neglect her schoolwork.

 

Catherine had always been a typical student; not an overachiever by any means, but neither was she failing. After learning to play violin however, her grades began to plummet, much to her father’s dismay. Catherine didn’t care however, and kept on playing at every family concert and school recital she could squeeze her way into. She graduated high school in 1937, and went through a year and a half of college before dropping out. She had been the subject of ridicule by her classmates for her too-skinny figure anyway.

 

Sick of being nagged at by her perfectionist parents, Catherine moved to the other side of town after college and began to shuttle in and out of unemployment, turning to her music for company instead of alcohol. In mid-1951, Catherine was astonished to find her father had arranged a marriage behind her back: To Lord Gordon Rathblair of Scozia whom of course, she’d never even met. Citing its sexist undertones along with the fact she didn’t even KNOW Gordon, the marriage continued as planned and Catherine retreated into her own special place of darkness.

 

However, Gordon knew going in that marrying Catherine would be a double-edged sword. He was well aware that the Monroes were among the most influential old money families in Usland; and that marrying one of their females would contribute to the Rathblair family fortune well. The negative aspect was, obviously, Catherine would be unable to give him an heir. Briefly, Gordon determinedly sought out Scozia’s most radical, liberal AND well-respected fertility doctors but even they were unwilling to throw their hats into the ring.

 

Dogs and wolves, along with domestic cats and wild cats were the few mating couples who were able to produce children; but foxes and wolves were simply not in the spectrum. In addition, the specialists Gordon went to also grimly opined that even if he and Catherine WERE able to viably produce a child together, the risk was very high said child might suffer from severe deformities and/or hereditary diseases. And they did NOT want anything like that happening. Especially not after Malachy.

 

After getting those last, deathly words, Gordon gave up futilely trying to impregnate Catherine- they both knew now it wouldn’t work, and had probably known on some subconscious level that it never would. They even had separate bedrooms now. Probably better for them both.

 

Catherine herself, hated Gordon. Despised him from the moment they’d married. And now, after twelve years she had had enough of it. One way or another, she would kill him in order to pursue a true romantic relationship. One with someone who loved her for who she was. That was all Catherine wanted. On the other hand, she was blissfully unaware of Gordon’s plot to kill her, and all Catherine thought of now were Cedric’s Uslandian family members, and whether or not they would be any of any use to her. With a sly smile, she closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.

 

 

The following morning, Alice and Jamie left and got on a train to the rural southern village of Stowhaven. The train drove past what was mostly endless green fields and the rolling hills of placid spring countryside, though notably most of it seemed bathed in an omnipresent, graying shadow. There was also a considerable length of dark, dominating forest as well, and Alice found herself captivated- it was after all, such a dramatic change in scenery from Usland!

 

Nonetheless, the train stopped at Stowhaven’s one meager station at just before twelve noon, Alice and Jamie having just eaten lunch on the train fifteen minutes before.

 

Meanwhile, in town, in a small two-story house that was being rented until August, a dark brown paw stealthily moved a white wooden king across a chessboard.

 

“I win. Again.”

 

“Cassie, you spoilsport! It really isn’t funny, you know.”

 

“Arina Cartwright I’ll have you know your sense of humor is….Outrageously intolerable. So there.”

 

Cassie Blake and Arina Cartwright were two young, female dogs from Usland; and at twenty-two they were both fresh from college but still had the impetuous, bickering nature of teenagers. Cassie, older by three months was some sort of melting-pot of collie, shepherd and who knows what else? Her fur was a smooth dark brown, her muzzle tan, and a large, uneven, chocolate-colored stripe ran down her face and stopped there. Cassie’s eyes were a coppery shade of brown, and everything from her hips to her footpaws was the same color as her facial stripe, crisscrossed with unruly patches of black.

 

Cassie’s manner of dress was a bit sloppy as well: She wore a pale green sweater, a short, gray plaid cotton skirt; and mismatched shoes: One a pale pink, bedraggled sneaker and the other one a battered sandal. The clothes matched Cassie’s personality in a sense, as well: She was the shier and the more philosophical of the two friends, whereas Arina was more outgoing and to-the-point.

 

Arina, meanwhile, was wearing a white-and-yellow polyester dress and a matching yellow scarf, and her shoes were relatively nondescript. Arina was partially husky and part something else Cassie couldn’t quite remember. Her fur was primarily white, but a hood of black fur took up the top half of her face, her blue eyes bespectacled with circles of brown; the same color of her ears. Her arms were black, and her paws brown, as were her legs and footpaws. Arina was generally the more assertive of the two, but when they bickered it was all in good fun. Usually.

 

Both of them flinched however, when the radio in the corner of the living room returned from commercial break (Much to Cassie’s everlasting anguish that their rented house lacked television) and began playing what was their unanimously favorite song: A Hard Day’s Night by the up-and-coming Anglician boy band the Caterpillars:

 

It’s been a hard day’s night, and I’ve been workin’ like a dog! It’s been a hard day’s night, I should be sleepin’ like a log.

 

But when I get home to you, I find the things that you do will make me feel all right. You know I work all day to get the money to buy to your things. But it’s worth it just to hear you say you’re gonna give me everything.

 

So why on earth should I moan, ‘cause when you get me alone you know I feel okay.

 

When I’m home, everything seems to be right! When I’m home…. Feeling you holding me tight, tight yeah!

 

It’s been a hard day’s night, and I’ve been workin’ like a dog….

 

As the song continued, Cassie let out a quiet sigh.

 

“They’re dreamboats….”

 

Arina chuckled.

 

“I’d say you’re just flipping your wig again Cassie.”

 

Cassie rolled her eyes and let that stand as her response.

 

Eventually the song faded out, and Arina stood, wandering into the kitchen and rummaging through the cupboards, looking dissatisfied at what we saw.

 

“Cassie? I’m gonna go out and get some groceries; we’re just about out of food again.”

 

Cassie got up from her chair.

 

“Well, you know what? I need to get more cigarettes anyway and the corner store’s right near the supermarket so let’s get going.”

 

Without a word, the two locked the door of the thatched-roof behind them and headed out into the town of Stowhaven. Stowhaven was a historic town that had been around for centuries, and housed some medieval ruins farther east, out in the moorlands. Such things were bait for foreign tourists, but it was not such triviality that Arina and Cassie had come to Scozia for. Not entirely.

 

They’d met in college back when they shared the same dorm room; Arina the tough, boisterous female greaser with a questionable background and Cassie the wise and sometimes awkward bookworm. They had become friends over the course of their freshman year; and continued to stay close on the campus of their small, unimpressive Montver university.

 

Upon graduating they moved into apartments across the street from the other and over the winter began to discuss ideas about an independent documentary they would make with only themselves and no others assisting; about an interesting Scozian folktale about a newborn fox who was destined to be the next Lord Rathblair but was denied his birthright allegedly due to unspeakable deformities.

 

Having recently won just enough money out of a lottery to pay for plane tickets, Cassie insisted there was no better golden opportunity to visit Scozia then now, so off they’d flown. That had been three days ago, and so far the servants and family members of the Rathblair estate had not been particularly kind to them. But Cassie and Arina would be persistent- if not from the Rathblairs themselves (and their close associates) they would find information on this odd little tale elsewhere. It was just a matter of patience.

 

Along the way to their separate errand destinations, Cassie and Arina passed by the train station. Along the way, they passed a completely lost Alice and Jamie.

 

“They look completely confused!”

 

Arina remarked.

 

“I wonder if they’re tourists like us?”

 

Cassie hesitated.

 

“Maybe we should go meet them and find out.”

 

“Sounds good to me.”

 

And with that, they went over to Alice and Jamie, who had not yet found any of the right locals to approach for directions.

 

“Excuse me, are you two tourists?”

 

Alice instantly gave the two eye contact, but Jamie looked very sheepish and stared at his footpaws.

 

“Yeah, we are. We just got off the train.”

 

“No, no, it’s okay! So are we! Cassie and I are almost as new as you are.”

 

Arina offered, taking a step forward.

 

“I’m Cassie Blake, and this is my old college roommate Arina Cartwright. We’re best friends.”

 

“I’m Alice Duncan, and this is my husband, Jamie.”

 

Jamie smiled shyly.

 

“Hey.”

 

They all shook paws.

 

“If you want, maybe we can take you around so you know where everything is?”

 

Cassie courteously inquired.

 

“We’d love to, but we haven’t even gotten settled in yet. But Jamie and I won’t be living too far off, I mean, I’m sure we’ll meet up again at some point. Nice meeting you.”

 

And with that, they went their separate ways.

 

“They seemed pretty nice!”

 

Arina commented, and the fact that they were not the only new Uslandians in town was comforting. But neither Cassie nor Arina knew this would not be their last meeting with Alice and Jamie. Not by a long shot.


	5. Chapter Four

In Evensburgh, Leo Karnage swaggered into a pub. He had gotten there two days prior to Alice and Jamie’s arrival and was still in the early stages of tracking them- Back in Usland he had left his underlings behind, issuing the statement that this mission was personal and something that only he and he alone could carry out. Using his typical alias of Landino diVenazetti, he’d checked into an inconspicuous hotel room and remained there at the present time.

 

Upon entering the pub, Leo saw a few other creatures finishing lunch, and some others having a drink at the long, slanted counter at the center of the room. Walking over to the bar, Leo gave the bartender; a weasel, a long stare.

 

“Vodka, please. Uh…. Nothing TOO complicated.”

 

He grinned suavely.

 

The bartender prepared Leo’s drink. After he’d paid and began drinking, Leo glanced off to his left a bit. A muscular male badger in creased pants and a heavy overcoat was drinking what appeared to be a shot of whiskey. A smuggler, the badger’s name was Cailean Dunnmore and he was forty-two years old.

 

Brawny and arrogant to the point of ridicule; Dunnmore often pitied the wannabe criminal masterminds of Leo’s age and generation who swaggered around town, inevitably becoming victim to one of Evensburgh’s several major crime lords; who for the most part went deathly silent as far as the news and television medias were concerned. Getting this air from Leo, Dunnmore studied the young wolfdog and asked

 

“You from here?”

 

Dunnmore spoke with a trace of an accent, which Leo was vaguely able to recognize.

 

“No. I came over from Usland.”

 

“Why?”

 

Leo grinned cockily in such a manner that made Dunnmore instantly want to punch him.

 

“Not your business.”

 

He paused, still not losing that damn grin.

 

“Is it?”

 

“I never said it was. The name, you little bastard is Cailean Dunnmore, and WHILE YOU WERE LEARNING TO SPELL YOUR NAME I was bein’ trained t’get the best anybeast could want from overseas!”

 

“I don’t believe that!”

 

Leo was shouting now himself, and they were getting a lot of stares from the other patrons.

 

“Well. You draw a crowd.”

 

Dunnmore remarked, folding his arms.

 

No answer from Leo.

 

“Kid are you some kind of smartass? Are you bloody well looking for a fight?”

 

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Dunnmore withdrew an ebony-handled switchblade and clicked it.

 

Everyone was looking at them now.

 

Without a word, Leo smiled quietly and produced his own switchblade, which already had its blade out.

 

Dunnmore already tried to stab at Leo, and Leo knew that unless he intervened quickly the older creature was going to get the upper hand. So in an act of quick thinking and cowardice, Leo grabbed his switchblade, thrust it into the badger’s striped face, dragged it down a little deeper, yanked it out and fled. The wound wasn’t very deep, but it was on the same level of humiliation as having said “Fuck you!”

 

He heard voices in the pub screaming for him, especially that of Dunnmore’s but Leo took off running in the direction of his hotel, determined to flee at all costs. He would get back to looking for Alice and Jamie for now. But if he and Cailean Dunnmore ever met again, he would give that badger far more than just a little scratch!

 

Malachy Rathblair knew what he was. And he didn’t particularly care. At fifty-nine years old he probably had a few decades left in him still, but what was the point of living longer? He was fully aware that even after Gordon died, he was probably doomed to spend an eternity locked in these stuffy chambers.

 

Malachy knew why he was here, of course he did. His and Gordon’s parents had been convinced that nobody would be able to believe that such a nightmarish ghoul of a fox was to be the next Lord Rathblair, and so they’d simply said that he was stillborn. Problem eliminated.

 

In most respects, Malachy physically resembled his brother. And why not? They were identical twins! He and Gordon had the same burgundy fur, about the same height now, and the same brown eyes. But that was where the similarities ended. Malachy also had clubbed footpaws (On which it was painful to walk without the assistance of a cane), sunken, slightly beady eyes and eleven total fingers. Three on one paw, eight on the other. Instead of a nose, he simply had two little black slits at the end of his snout (or muzzle, whichever word you prefer).

 

But Malachy had no pity for himself. This was simply the way he looked; he’d accepted it long ago and did not childishly whine about it. He was opportunistic and knew that if someone EVER offered to take him beyond estate grounds, who was he to refuse such an offer? But in his entire almost-sixty years of living that had not happened. Not even once.

 

Malachy didn’t even have much experience being social. As a child and adolescent, the creatures in his life were strictly limited to his parents, sometimes Gordon, a doctor every several months, and a select few household servants allowed to deliver his food.

 

Malachy knew when he was very young he’d had a nanny- he could vaguely remember so from being about four or five, but that was it. He couldn’t remember her name or even her species for that matter; just that he’d had a nanny once, but this evidently did not last very long, as there was a skip in the fox’s memories so that everything he remembered beyond that brief time period was being largely alone.

 

And even though he’d had a nanny, Malachy knew the room he lived in was nothing like the nursery Gordon bragged about. The nursery that originally had been intended for both of them. Malachy’s living was restricted to just two rooms: An all-purpose, square-shaped main chamber, and an adjoining bathroom, which contained nothing save the necessary toiletries found in every ordinary bathroom.

 

The main room simply had a plain wooden bed with one blanket, a shelf of the same books Malachy had read what felt like thousands of times in his life- they were all so old he suspected they had originally belonged to his parents. Besides that, there was just a table and one plush armchair, and a wardrobe containing his few choices of clothing.

 

In this nearly-empty room where Malachy had spent his entire life thus far, he had nothing to do. He’d had no childhood playmates, no girlfriends, no sports rivals, nothing. There wasn’t even a clock on which to tell the time. Malachy had no way of telling how much time was going by save for a mirror mounted on the wall; through which he knew he was getting much older.

 

Malachy just happened to be staring pointlessly at the mirror, bored, when there was a shifting noise and the door opened. Instinctively, he turned to see who was visiting. Catherine. Gordon’s wife. Fun.

 

Malachy had never been particularly fond of Gordon’s wife- she always struck him as being little more than a shallow, obsessive Uslandian heiress who was a little too smart for her own good. Which she was. Nonetheless, he was taken off-guard by her appearance today:

 

Catherine was wearing a black satin, low-cut zip-up dress that appeared to be from the late 1950s with a matching sash, along with an incongruously gaudy pair of heels. Malachy found it hard to take his eyes off the shoes, they were so ugly, and he had just barely looked up from them as he said

 

“……Hello, Catherine.”

 

Catherine smiled thinly. Malachy wondered if she was proud of herself or not.

 

“Hello, Malachy!”

 

“Why the outfit?”

 

Catherine simply shrugged and walked away, her heels clicking.

 

“I don’t know. I just thought it was time to… Do something with myself.”

 

“Is that all?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Quit playing games, Catherine!”

 

Malachy snarled, pausing after a while and asking in a pitied whisper:

 

“Are you here to seduce me?”

 

Catherine strode up so close to Malachy he felt mildly out of his comfort zone.

 

“That’s not for you to know.”

 

“I bloody well think what you just did there speaks for itself, now doesn’t it Cathy?”

 

Catherine didn’t answer, irritated that Malachy had caught onto her little game so quickly. But she was able to recover soon enough- A seeker of romance and someone to love her, Catherine really did not care Malachy felt nothing for her. In some subconscious degree, she knew that he wouldn’t. She just wanted to do this to him anyway to see what made him tick. There was something fun in that, subtly tormenting creatures to see what made them tick. But Catherine Rathblair did not see herself as evil. Instead, she merely viewed herself as someone who would do anything for love and to be loved.

 

Malachy meanwhile, was puzzled as to her actions. Being, obviously, a virgin, the very idea of sexual activity seemed like a distant and foreign enterprise to him. Being alone in this room for almost six decades had left him with virtually no sex drive left at all. He legitimately pitied scheming Catherine for attempting to arouse him.

 

“I’ll be seeing you later.”

 

Catherine muttered under her breath and stalked out. Malachy stared at the door long after the wolf had shut it behind her. That girl had odd notions, but she was definitely one to stay away from. But being of course, a horrible family secret, Malachy Rathblair did not have that luxury.

 

Alice and Jamie spent some time asking locals for directions to Cedric’s place. They said it was a little to the west, and not particularly far from the intimidating Rathblair family home. After a little less than fifteen minutes of walking an uneven but peaceful dirt trail, the couple arrived at what was to be their home for the summer and the remainder of the spring.

 

It was a quaint, two-story little structure with a thatched roof and narrow windows. The paint was chipping, and there was a painful amount of crabgrass patches of dandelions shooting up around the uneven, flat stones leading up to the front stoop.

 

“So, this is it.”

 

Jamie commented, instinctively gripping the handle of his suitcase tighter as he glanced up.

 

Alice too, took in the quiet, placid façade of the house.

 

“You know, Jamie, I COULD get used to living here!”

 

Alice smiled. She reached under the doormat, found the key and let them both in. They entered into an unremarkable little kitchenette containing only a table, a few counters and some wooden cabinets mounted into the walls, along with a wood-burning stove. A walkway led into an ornate and formal sitting room, with a tiny fireplace, some plush chairs, and what appeared to be a late 1950s television set.

 

Another, broader hallway branched off from the parlor and had three doors. Upon entering and exploring them, Alice and Jamie found they contained a master bedroom, a guest room, and a bathroom. They unpacked their things in the master bedroom (which turned out to be fairly large, especially compared with the other rooms), when Alice discovered a small black-and-white photograph neatly folded on the dresser.

 

“Hey Jamie, look at this!”

 

“Huh?”

 

Jamie looked up from putting the last of their clothes in the closet.

 

“I think I found an old picture of your uncle over here!”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yep.”

 

Alice gently handed the picture to Jamie. It seemed rather formal, and depicted a sour-faced, German Shepherd in about his mid-thirties holding a pair of shears and leaning against a half-collapsed stone wall. He looked the most blatantly grim among the creatures pictured. Off to his left were a fox couple, both dark in color (one black, one an odd shade of brown judging by the picture’s tones), both dressed lavishly. At their side was a younger fox, (Evidently their son) who was the same color as his father. The youngest fox was grinning obnoxiously and was holding what appeared to be a toy sword in his left paw. Upon turning the photograph over, Jamie found an inscription and a date: Me, Gregory, Kathleen and Gordon. 1911.

 

“Gordon…”

 

Jamie muttered, noting that the familiarity of the name.

 

“Lord Rathblair, the current one. Those must be his parents there. And that must be Cedric too.”

 

“He doesn’t look too happy…”

 

Alice commented, squinting to study the faded photograph further. Indeed, Cedric looked downright melancholy. Kathleen Rathblair seemed especially dour too, as though she were carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. The only one who seemed to be anything resembling happy was Gordon, and he was so young at the time whatever the adults were depressed about must have been well beyond his grasp.

 

But still, Alice legitimately wondered what it was that had dampened the mood of the photograph so irreversibly. And instinctively, she wanted to find out. That is, if there was anything TO find out.

 

Leo Karnage patiently sat on the unobtrusive train, paws on his lap. He didn’t give any of the other passengers eye contact, but he was doing everything in his power not to start trouble. He didn’t need that. Least of all here and now- that badger’s friends had probably nearly killed him back in the city if only they’d been able to hunt him down. His paws and wrists were trembling violently and he took a deep breath. What time was it? He hadn’t been keeping track, and Leo knew he should have.

 

Judging by the appearance outside it was probably late afternoon. It wouldn’t be obscenely long before he could get to Stowhaven. He’d be safe there. Hopefully. Leo leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. A plan was slowly but surely forming in his mind already. He would adopt the casual, breezy attitude of a harmless Uslandian tourist at a tavern, hotel, motel, whatever the village had to offer. He wouldn’t pry into the other guests’ business, unless of course they were Alice and Jamie (though he strongly doubted this).

 

In Stowhaven, all he had to do was find the appropriate place to lodge and everything would settle down from there. All he had to do was ask for directions for Cedric Duncan’s house. As the train steadily moved along towards the little village of Stowhaven, Leo drifted off. This time, he would be careful.

 

Amanda ‘Mandie’ Underwood was tired. She had been working in the household of Lord Gordon Rathblair since she was not quite fifteen years old; by means of supporting her 60-year-old mother Marianne, with her bad back, as well as cope with the fact that her father was rarely home under the premise of going away on business, but both female badgers had suspected at the time he was simply off dallying with other women.

 

In the fall of 1938, when Mandie had been preparing to leave the family home in Stowhaven, suitcase in paw, when her mother wanted to have a word with her.

 

“Amanda….”

 

She had said so eerily at the time, her eyes haunted and sober.

 

“I want you to know those silly folk stories about Lord Gregory and Lady Kathleen’s other son are true.”

 

Mandie balked.

 

“So they really…..?”

 

“Keep him locked away in some hidden room? Of course they do. And now that he’s been pulling daddy’s strings the past few years I suspect Gordon will be no different.”

 

Here Marianne’s voice sounded wistful AND cautioning.

 

“But why will I need to know this?”

 

Mandie had so naively inquired.

 

“Because, Mandie, if Lord Gordon does something, then you do it. Even if it means bringing Malachy Rathblair food and water! I know that because Lord Gregory used to favor me, and I knew Malachy when he was a baby. But if he’s harmless then he should be harmless now.”

 

There was an unhealthy pause.

 

“Mandie? What time are you due to meet Gregory and Gordon?”

 

Mandie glanced at her watch.

 

“2:31. What time is it now?”

 

“2:19. I’d better let you go.”

 

Mother and daughter had hugged, and Mandie waved feebly before setting off on her not-so-merry way to meet the Rathblair family. Kathleen and Gregory were elderly then; Kathleen would not pass on until 1944 and in 1951 her husband would follow. But in 1938 they were peacefully living out their sunset years. At least, as best they could without Gordon’s ambitious demands getting in the way.

 

Mandie had mostly stared at her footpaws when she’d met the nobles because of how harshly Gordon had berated her at first for being a few minutes late, but Gregory had acquitted her and vouched for his son; apologizing and saying his son simply didn’t like children. Ironic since it was a common village fact that in 1923 Gordon had an affair with a vixen servant girl who subsequently had been impregnated by him, and quietly fired.

 

Little else happened until later that evening; Mandie was simply given a modest bedroom and her duties as a maid were hastily explained to her. But shortly after dinner, only did a melancholy-looking Gregory knock at her bedroom door and took her into the library. The young badger knew then with a pounding heart that the fox lord wanted her to meet his other son. And as a common peasant girl, really, who was she to deny him that? In the library, Gregory disappeared behind the false bookcase and emerged a few minutes later, saying that Mandie had fifteen minutes to talk to Malachy. She nodded wordlessly and went in.

 

Malachy was not what Mandie had been expecting, honestly. At first his deformities startled her, especially his blatant lack of a nose; as well as his bizarre and random amount of fingers, but once she got past that she found the rightful Lord Rathblair at least had good intentions. He seemed casual and well-mannered, though it was obviously no surprise he was an introvert given the circumstances.

 

He was a gentlebeast to her nonetheless, and when the fifteen minutes were up Mandie simply returned to her room. She had been living here ever since. Her parents had both long ago passed on; and so this great house was now her home. In some ways, she was a prisoner, doomed to have no life other than that but a simple servant acting under the wishes of her lord and lady.

 

But at least she still got a decent paycheck. THAT Mandie couldn’t argue with. But then again, there were some days where she felt disillusioned and scrutinizing, wondering if she had any better of a life than Malachy, who sure as hell wasn’t getting paychecks sent to him in that secret library room.

 

“Amanda? Amanda?”

 

In the present day, 1963, Mandie sighed as Lady Catherine’s low voice drifted down a carved staircase. That wolf was so very odd. Nonetheless, Mandie smiled courteously and asked in tones of strained politeness:

 

“Yes, milady?”

 

“I’m going to be taking a walk. Tell Gordy if he doesn’t know.”

 

“I will!”

 

Mandie called back, and winced afterward. She had a feeling Gordon was tormenting his brother at the moment.

 

A few minutes later she was greeted by Catherine’s pale cream-colored form parading down the stairs. Instead of the seductive black dress she’d been wearing earlier that would have looked far better on someone ten years younger; Catherine was dressed in a white blouse with a pattern of orange and yellow roses, and a white skirt. She’d also abandoned those terrible, gaudy heels too and Mandie couldn’t help but smirk.

 

“Don’t give me that look, Amanda. You’re nearly as old as I am. Don’t be so childish.”

 

She wagged a finger disapprovingly at Mandie, who began to wonder what Catherine really had in mind as she walked out the front door and disappeared.

 

At the same time, Alice felt the need to smoke. But at the same time, she also wanted to get some fresh air. So she said her good-byes to Jamie and left Cedric’s little house, and upon asking directions found her way to the larger of Stowhaven’s two parks. There were few other creatures in the park, so Alice simply sat down on an old bench and had her cigarette.

 

After she was discarding her cigarette in the trash, Alice wandered over to a wooden stand where an otter was hawking various cold drinks, obviously taking advantage of the warmer temperature. Upon being told what the price was, Alice dug some money out of her purse, counted it out and handed it over, distracted by the sound of an impatient footpaw thumping against the grass.

 

“At-hem…..”

 

“….Yes?”

 

She picked up her soda and turned around to see a cream-colored female wolf in an orange blouse and skirt standing behind her, looking smug. Alice sighed. She detested creatures like this but quickly stepped aside and stalked off to the nearest bench.

 

Catherine Rathblair (who of course, did not know Alice yet and had happened upon her merely by chance), bought some soda of her own and donned a cheerful but slightly forced smile. It looked quite genuine however, and while it would take a casual observer a few moments to guess WHAT exactly was off, Catherine hoped that Alice would not notice. She approached the young wolfdog and leaned against a tree, clearing her throat.

 

“Excuse me, I DO apologize for being so rude. It’s not normally like me.”

 

Catherine’s voice now gained a note of apology.

 

Alice turned her attention to the tree where this stranger was standing, obviously puzzled by the wolf’s sudden turnabout.

 

“Well, you’re forgiven.”

 

Alice’s tone was polite when she spoke, but the slight bafflement was palpable, and Catherine detected it. So she figured it was time to introduce herself.

 

“By the way, I’m Catherine, Catherine Rathblair. Lord Gordon’s wife.”

 

Alice was surprised, and looked it to. Of all the places she’d have met a noble’s wife, she wouldn’t have expected it to be in a park in some tiny rural moorland village. Who knew?

“Alice Duncan, nice to meet you.”

 

She shook the paw Catherine offered.

 

“Duncan?”

 

Catherine was very slow in dropping Alice’s paw.

 

“As in Cedric Duncan?”

 

Alice sighed. This was a small town after all. She should have known there were going to be some connections. Nonetheless, she pushed her little gripe aside (reluctantly) and said:

 

“Not directly related, but yeah. He was a relative of my husband’s. We just moved into his house; we’re honeymooning here until the end of summer.”

 

Catherine’s smile broadened just a bit. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she was in her element. A sociopath (and covert sadist) by nature since adolescence, Catherine just knew from the get-go that psychologically torturing Alice (and quite possibly her husband as well) was just the break she needed from her depressing and unexciting marriage. This was an opportunity if she had ever seen one.

 

So, smiling, she asked Alice:

 

“In that case…… Alice, would you be interested in spending the rest of your honeymoon with Gordon and I?”

 

Alice was surprised at the wolf’s offer, but considered it. It DID sound appealing, after all.

 

“I’ll think about it, thanks. Nice meeting you.”

 

They said their good-byes, and Alice went back to Cedric’s to discuss all this with Jamie.

 

The walk back to Cedric’s house was quiet and uneventful, and when Alice walked back into the bedroom, she found Jamie reading over some of her older manuscripts.

 

“Jamie!”

 

She yelped, a bit embarrassed.

 

Jamie looked up from the stapled papers. He was smiling.

 

“What? Alice, this is great!”

 

He shook his head.

 

“You should maybe get this published sometime.”

 

Alice disagreed, and she just stared at her footpaws. Those notes were fairly old, going back to about 1959 when she was far more of an amateur than she was now, and her writing style was much rougher.

 

“That’s my old work, it’s all crap. And I TRIED to get it published but every company I went to just turned it down.”

 

“Well how’s that new book of yours coming then?”

 

“Okay, I guess, under the circumstances. I still don’t have a title yet.”

 

There was a pause.

 

Then Jamie asked:

 

“So, how’d things go when you went out?”

 

“Good, I had a nice smoke.”

 

Alice took a moment to compose herself.

 

“I met a wolf at the park, Catherine Rathblair, Lord Rathblair’s wife……She seemed a bit strange but friendly enough I guess. She was asking if me and you wanted to spend the summer at her place.”

 

Jamie was clearly surprised.

 

“And do you?”

 

He asked.

 

“Do you?”

 

Alice countered.

 

“It sounds nice to me….This place is giving me the creeps. What about you?”

 

Alice shrugged.

 

“I don’t know, I’ll have to think about it.”

 

After a few more hours of discussion and a lot of thinking from Alice, the wolfdog decided she would accompany her husband, and that they would pack up and go in the morning. Both of them were totally oblivious they had walked unknowingly into Catherine’s trap…..

 

Leo arrived in Stowhaven half an hour after Alice and Jamie had discussed staying with the Rathblairs. Upon getting off at the miniscule train station he did some asking around and found a dingy public house to stay at called the Tiger and the Dog. Leo knew that when it came to maintaining a cover in a foreign town (especially since he’d never been out of Usland in his life until now!), he had probably best spend as much time out of doors, but out of sight. Preferably at a temporary job- After all, for all he knew if he spent too much time lounging about in his hotel room, the locals regard him as an odd, self-isolated foreigner. And Leo would not let there be gossip.

 

So, that evening, after some more brief consultation he found the name of a local nightclub inexplicably called The Mob, and after one audition and quite a bit of persistent nagging towards the manager, Leo was reluctantly given the job. So at least he had a cover now. Feeling unexpectedly jubilant, Leo returned to the Tiger and the Dog and shut himself in his room. Picking up the ancient phone collecting dust on the circular coffee table, Leo hesitated.

 

It took him several minutes to remember his family’s home phone number; after not having been to Southshire for eight years, but when he thought he remembered it, Leo dialed and hoped for the best. After it rang, there was a brief pause. And then…..A too-familiar voice.

 

“Allo, allo, dees ees Felipe Karnage. To whom am I speaking?”

 

Leo did not say hello. Instead, he took a quick breath and began a song he knew would be gleefully appropriate for the occasion:

 

“I’m 500 miles from home, teardrops fell on Mama’s note when I read the things she wrote. She said ‘We miss you son, we love you, come on home’ Well I didn’t have to pack. I had it all right on my back. Now I’m 500 miles from home, away from home, away from home…. Cold and tired and all alone, yes I’m 500 miles from home…. I know this is the same road I took the day I left home, but it sure looks different now. And I guess I look different too, ‘cause time changes everything. I wonder what they’ll say when they see their boy looking this bad. Oh I wonder what they’ll say when I get home……”

 

As Leo’s slow, eerie and almost (but not quite) soothing voice faded out, he let that sink in, chuckling briefly and saying:

 

“I bet you don’t know who this is, do you? Are you too much of a coward to come after me? Are you? I think so. I think you are a coward, Felipe Karnage…….”

 

Meanwhile, in Southshire, Karnage had been sitting in the living room and had hesitantly been listening to the phone, while Grace watched him with a growing mixture of puzzlement and concern. Grace’s worried feelings reached their tipping point when Karnage roared into the phone:

 

“Be glad I can’t reach through dees phone because I’d reep your balls off and shove dem down your throat, you leetle sheet!”

 

In Scozia, Leo hung up just then.

 

Back in Usland, Karnage’s last two words were snapped out in bitter rage, and Grace had had enough.

 

“WHO THE HELL WAS THAT?!”

 

She demanded.

 

Karnage sighed, very irritated by the nature of this call, added to by the fact he just couldn’t remember where he’d heard that voice last. It had been so low at first, and then such a whisper it’d been practically unrecognizable. Obviously the speaker had been disgusing their voice for a reason…..But it was a male. That much at least, he could tell. Nonetheless, he answered his wife honestly:

 

“Some leetle sheet who’s looking to get hurt eef he keeps messing weeth de Karnages…..”

 

“What’d he say?”

 

Karnage grimaced. This had been a major blow to his pride and he struggled to keep calm as he exclaimed:

 

“Dat leetle pejendo called me a coward!!!!”

 

“I assume the voice sounded young then?”

 

Grace surmised.

 

Karnage nodded, his voice tinged with disgust.

 

“Si. Leetle culo.”

 

There was a pause. Karnage began to pace quietly before returning to Grace’s side, muttering more to himself than to her:

 

“Where een de eenfierna have I heard dat voice before…..?”

 

Again the question plagued him.

 

“….Who did it sound like? Tell me.”

 

Karnage took a moment, a silent moment just to determine if his subconscious intuition had been right. He knew who it was. He knew it. He just didn’t want to believe it. The wolf heaved a sigh of defeat.

 

“Eet sounded like someone who ees dead to me.”

 

“…..Leo, isn’t it?”

 

Karnage nodded. Without a word, he went to a small wooden shelf on the wall and glanced at an oval-shaped, framed family photograph. It was taken in 1955, little more than a week after Alice and Leo had turned 16. He slipped the photograph from the frame (which had no glass) and quietly tore off the figure on the far left, Leo. Karnage studied the piece of photograph, his eyes soon veiled by a curtain of tears.

 

“I loved you like a son. You screwed de familia over.”

 

Grace went to him and placed a gentle paw on his shoulder.

 

“I know I’ll probably come off as an asshole for saying this but… You still have Daniel. Hell, WE still have Daniel. And will have him. And Alice.”

 

“Si.”

 

Karnage found himself slightly uplifted by his wife’s comment, and at the moment that was more than enough for him.

 

“Daniel and Alicia. Daniel, Alicia and Grace. Mi familia, mi tesoros.”

 

A peaceful silence.

 

Then Karnage turned to look at Grace. There was something he’d been hiding from her for years, and the wolf could think of no better time to confess this than now.

 

“I have Daniel’s baby peecture.”

 

This came as a complete surprise to Grace. She hadn’t been aware Karnage had taken one in the first place.

 

“Then how come you never mentioned this until now?”

 

Karnage had been expecting this question, but luckily Grace’s tone was gentle.

“I deedn’t want to upset you. I took eet before de funeral.”

 

Grace completely understood. It brought back bitter twinges of sorrow now, just to think about the funeral and the grief her miscarriage had brought about like a sudden and violent whirlwind….. So she prepared herself when Karnage disappeared up the stairs and came down holding a plain and relatively unadorned black-and-white photograph that certainly looked its age now.

 

When it was handed to her, Grace saw that it was a somewhat grainy but visible picture of Daniel’s body curled in the white satin lining of that tiny coffin. Just looking at that picture again brought back equally powerful memories of her own parents’ funeral (which had been on a perfectly sunny day!), and Grace couldn’t help it. She wept.

 

“Our leetle angelo….”

 

Karnage sighed mournfully.

 

Grace and Karnage looked at the picture for a while with a mixture of love and depression until they both retired to bed, curled around each other.

 

Meanwhile, in Scozia, Leo’s laughter became low and hoarse. He had achieved his goal for the day. He went to bed a very happy creature indeed.

 

The following morning, Alice and Jamie set off to Gordon and Catherine’s home, neither really sure what to expect. It was not directly attached to Stowhaven, per se, but rather just beyond its borders. On the way out they briefly encountered Cassie and Arina again (Who both seemed slightly jealous that Alice and Jamie were going to stay with the Rathblairs’ and not them, for the purposes of their pseudo-documentary), before arriving at the massive castle (for lack of better term!), with a beautiful gothic façade, and was constructed not of wood, but of some tannish stone with a sloping black roof and woodworks.

 

The windows, notably, were all very large (if not excessively so) and there were two narrow little turrets jutting out from each side of the house. And in front of it all, there was nothing except for a massive gate tipped with decorative spikes with a huge padlock affixed to it. Alice and Jamie waited impatient for several minutes until at last, a middle-aged badger in a shapeless, blue-gray blouse and skirt came running, a fading brass keyring attached to her narrow belt.

 

“Terribly sorry to keep you waiting!”

 

She gasped, leaning on the gate and resting a moment to catch her breath.

 

“You must be Mr. and Mrs. Duncan, from Usland.”

 

“That’d be us!”

 

Jamie smiled a bit.

 

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Mandie. Mandie Underwood, I’m the housekeeper around here.”

 

Mandie fumbled with the lock a minute before easing the gate open and holding it open for Alice and Jamie. When they had stepped onto the grounds, the badger looked both ways and cautiously shut it behind them.

 

“Good thing you showed up when you did, I’ll have you know Lady Catherine doesn’t bloody well like to be kept waiting.”

 

Here Mandie sighed and shook her head exasperatedly as she led her employers’ guests up a thin dirt trail.

 

Alice took the time to take in the grounds as they passed: The mansion was positioned in a massive, grassy courtyard (that was clearly well tended-to judging by how thoroughly the grass had been cut) with a few large, trimmed hedges, and partially surrounded by some old stone walls that were slowly being taken over with ivy and other determined, parasitic vines.

 

A small stone fountain sat off to the side, and it was long dry, and the leaping dolphin at the top of it seemed to be frozen in time forever, especially now that bursts of water were no longer coming out of its tube-like muzzle.

 

But Alice did not have much time to admire the mysterious foreign atmosphere much longer: By now they had abruptly reached the front steps. Mandie rapped on the forbidding oaken door twice, and they were hurriedly let in. Alice and Jamie entered into a dusty and boxlike front hall, where a lone maid quietly dusted off a vulpine bust mounted on a wooden stand before disappearing into another room like she’d been horrifically startled.

 

The hall itself had oaken paneling all over the walls; and the floors were invisible beneath layers of ancient, floral carpeting. Apart from some dusty, ancient plush chairs and sofas propped beside the walls, it was empty except for a winding and narrow set of stairs at the very end of the room, leading straight upward, and some large, open doors branching off into other, presumably less-interesting rooms.

 

Mandie surveyed it all briefly before good-naturedly shooing off her charges.

 

“Lord Gordon and Lady Catherine’ll be right upstairs, in the parlor. Second room to the right. I’d take you there myself but….”

 

She shook her head.

 

“They don’t want me around. Good day to you both.”

 

And with that, Mandie walked off, leaving Alice and Jamie to themselves. The first floor was eerily silent. Jamie took a moment to sit down on one of the elegant couches.

 

“Let’s just hope Lord and Lady Rathblair aren’t both gonna be complete assholes.”

 

He sighed a bit.

 

Alice shrugged neutrally.

 

“I met Catherine when I was smoking, she seemed nice, if not a bit……Weird. We’ll see.”

 

“Yep.”

 

Jamie struggled up and followed Alice up the stairs, and they found the room as Mandie had instructed them.

 

When Alice knocked, in seconds the door was quickly opened and they entered. The room they entered into was excessively large, and had a quiet, pale blue wallpaper. A small mahogany coffee table sat alone in the center of the room, and at the center of the room there sat a plush couch with ebony arms and legs, and a matching wing chair to the left. Catherine (who had opened the door) retreated back to the chair. Gordon Rathblair, the dark brown fox (whose fur had a very obvious red hue) who was lord of this household was sitting idly on the couch, wearing a red smoking jacket, smoking a cigarette through a filter.

 

Upon glancing at Alice and Jamie just entering through the doorway, he put out his cigarette, and threw it in an engraved metal wastebasket, put the filter on the coffee table and went to greet his guests.

 

“Ahh, you must be Mr. and Mrs. Duncan, welcome, both of you, to my home.”

 

He grinned smugly, stepped forward to Alice, and kissed her paw.

 

“Always nice to see such a lovely young lady.”

 

Catherine rolled her eyes.

 

Alice meanwhile, was a bit off-put by this sudden compliment, but did her hesitant best to act courteously, and curtsied.

 

“And Catherine has told me a bit about you.”

 

Here Gordon went on a tangent and nodded respectfully towards Jamie.

 

“And you must be her husband.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Jamie began to pace awkwardly, feeling most out of his element already.

 

“As the head of this household, I wish to say that I hope you both enjoy your stay. That’s really all there is to be said from me, so please do take your time pick rooms and perhaps explore the grounds. Catherine?”

 

Gordon glanced to his trophy wife, silently asking her if she had anything to say.

 

Catherine herself just gave a knowing little smile.

“Good day to the both of you.”

 

As she turned her attention to Jamie and Alice, her smile became noticeably more prim and she nodded quietly.

 

Due to the fact that there was not much else to say, Alice and Jamie left then. They would decide from there what to do next.


	6. Chapter Five

Meanwhile, at his hotel, Leo felt significantly refreshed. It seemed to be a gorgeous day out so far; and the peaceful atmosphere let him focus more on his mission: To pursue Alice and Jamie. So Leo left his hotel room behind and went out into Stowhaven.

But on the other hand….He was in need of a drink. Why not visit a pub? And even better, perhaps he’d meet someone there who’d be able to direct him to Alice and Jamie’s…. (Leo was also aware he started work today, but was not concerned- he wasn’t due until shortly around lunchtime and could probably come up with some plausible excuse as to his delay.)

 

So, when Leo entered the small, dingy pub that was farther west, he sat idly and ordered a shot of straight whiskey. Unfortunately, he got overconfident and promptly followed up with several more. Afterwards, he felt significantly more arrogant, if not more than a little lightheaded. But a fair amount of Leo’s mentality still remained intact from the alcohol: Observing and finding his victims was something he had to handle with the appropriate level of seriousness, which he did. However, as he drank, Leo was distracted by the sound of two young females arguing by the door…..

 

“I told you Arina, I’m paying. Just cool it!”

 

There was a bit of growling, and Leo hastily paid the bartender before turning his head, smirking as he did so. Upon fully turning around and getting off the stool, he saw two young female dogs; one completely brown and one tricolored sitting near the door.

 

The tricolored one had blue eyes and was wearing a red blouse and matching plaid slacks. Her companion (who sat to her right) had eyes that were an interesting coppery brown, which contrasted with her layered dark brown fur. She was wearing a pale orange jacket and a gray skirt. They both appeared to be mongrels, but with plenty of shepherd and/or collie in them both. But no wolf. That much Leo could tell.

 

“Good morning.”

 

Leo commented as he sauntered by, attempting to sound fairly cheerful. (Though unfortunately some of the grimness with which he was pursuing his intended victims poked through)

 

Meanwhile, Arina Cartwright and Cassie Blake were not sure to make of the creature in front of them. He seemed pleasant, but there was something…. Off about the manner with which he carried himself. Cassie herself just got the feeling not to tell him too much if he asked anything personal. Arina felt similarly. Nonetheless, they both did their best to seem normal themselves.

 

“Hello!”

 

Cassie smiled shyly.

 

“Hi….”

 

Arina rolled her shoulder blades a bit and leaned back in her chair.

 

Leo studied them and figured he’d better not procrastinate in asking. The sooner he could find out this information the better.

 

“Have you by any chance met and Mr. and Mrs. Jamie and Alice Duncan?”

 

Leo’s voice was brisk, but also very cold.

 

Cassie and Arina exchanged looks, both intimidated. They were both acting out on impulses; but this did not seem to them like someone Jamie and Alice might associate with. There was definitely something shady about this guy and if he was trying to hide it he wasn’t doing a particularly good job.

 

“No, no we haven’t.”

 

Cassie’s tone was crisp but level.

 

“Yes, I’m very sorry but you’ll have to go elsewhere. We were just about to leave anyway.”

 

Arina added.

 

Leo sighed a bit. These two were certainly no help. As he left the pub and walked out onto the street, the first thing he felt was embarrassment at what a pitiful job he had done at acting natural. The booze must have gotten to his head. Damnit. Oh well, he at least knew where Alice and Jamie lived- in a house belonging to someone named Cedric Duncan. And small as it was, it was nonetheless indeed a start…..

 

At the same time, Jamie and Alice lingered outside. It was fairly warm out and a good day to be outside, but there was not much to look at in the shadowed front courtyard than they’d already glimpsed back when Mandie had escorted them in.

 

Glancing up at the sky, Jamie soon turned to look at Alice.

 

“You wanna go back inside?”

 

Alice wasn’t sure.

 

“We haven’t seen the backyard yet.”

 

“You sure?”

 

Alice shrugged.

 

“Lord and Lady Rathblair never said we couldn’t. Let’s go.”

 

Alice jogged off north. Feeling bored anyway, Jamie picked up the pace and darted after his wife.

 

The backyard, they saw, was relatively sparse and seemed to have decidedly less upkeep than the front yard. There was a suspicious amount of crabgrass everywhere, and small silver fish lurked beneath the surface of a clearly natural pond; surrounded by cattails. However, at the very back of the yard (and resting just against the wall), between two alder trees, there was a small cluster of headstones.

 

The Rathblair family graveyard. Holy shit.

 

Intrigued a little, Alice wandered forward.

 

“Jamie? Come look at this!”

 

She knelt at a small, obelisk-shaped headstone with an elaborate floral design.

 

“Coming!!”

 

Hesitantly, Jamie stepped forward, thinking at the back of his mind how morbid the Rathblairs had to be for keeping a cemetery in their own backyard.

 

Alice indicated the writing on the grave:

 

MALACHY RATHBLAIR, SON OF KATHLEEN AND GREGORY

 

Born: September 23rd, 1903

 

Died: September 23rd, 1903

 

“Poor kid.”

 

Alice shook her head.

 

“I wonder how he relates to Gordon….”

 

Jamie glanced over at the grave and briefly ran a paw down the stone surface, sharper edges and all; the rough feeling didn’t entirely bother him.

 

“Yeah, me too.”

 

Jamie looked up at the sky. It was getting darker now, and heavy clouds of gray were starting to obscure the sky.

 

“I think we should get inside.”

 

He added.

 

Alice nodded sagely.

 

“No better time than now. It could probably open up soon.”

 

And with that, husband and wife returned indoors before the rain started, each still wondering at the back of their minds just who Malachy Rathblair had been.

 

Meanwhile, deep within the mansion walls. Malachy was alone yet again. He was unbearably lonely; and although he’d long become used to being by himself for long periods of time, that didn’t help his loneliness at all.

 

Now the fox paced the room he was confined to, before coming to a stop and sitting on the edge of his bed, thinking about Gordon. It almost made Malachy smirk what an arrogant fool his brother was. He was well aware Gordon desperately wanted a male heir (legitimate or otherwise), and he was justified in that he and Malachy were the ONLY blood heirs to the Rathblair money and land still alive at present. (Catherine, of course, did not count; having married into the family) And unless Gordon had a son and soon, he would be forced to resign himself to a bitter life of watching himself grow old and knowing that the family would die with him. And Malachy.

 

Malachy had never even really thought much about romantic relationships; but he had long figured that if he had ever had the opportunity to marry, he would marry simply out of love and not to fulfill ambitious desires the way Gordon had. That was definite. Malachy almost leapt off the bed however, as Gordon entered the room. He had drifted off a bit in his thoughts and had not expected his brother to make such a sudden appearance.

 

“Hello Gordon.”

 

Malachy muttered, not looking up.

 

“And good day to you, Malachy.”

 

Gordon nodded a bit, but Malachy didn’t even need to look at his face to see how large and smug his grin was.

 

Immediately repulsed of the idea of wasting his time on contrived, idle chitchat, Malachy quickly got to the point as he got up from the bed:

“Gordon, what are you doing here?”

 

Gordon shrugged.

 

“Merely to inform you of a recent transpiration.”

 

Malachy snorted.

 

“That being?”

 

“As of today, Malachy, there are guests in this house.”

 

This was somewhat trivial to Malachy at best. He honestly didn’t care about the painfully elaborate descriptions of Gordon’s dinner parties (which judging by the company that seemed to be there, were always extremely dull) that the younger fox had always gone on about until shortly after he married Catherine, when Malachy thought Gordon’s party days were over. Apparently he was wrong.

 

“I don’t see why I should care, Gordon. You’ve had dozens of guests until you were married!”

“Yes I did, and now I simply thought it was time for a change….”

 

Gordon chuckled a bit.

 

“But Gordon, what does this have to do with me?”

 

“They’re from Usland. Related to old Cedric, you’d never met him but I did, obviously. Anyway, Jamie and Alice are young. Curious. Exploratory. There’s no doubt they’ll go looking for evidence once they hear that certain little ‘fairy tale’ about your existence.”

 

“And?”

 

“Oh mark my word, they’ll be even MORE curious….. And if they ever do find you, Malachy, I will remove them from this household. And rest assured I will put you someplace….. Perhaps more appropriate.”

 

Malachy tensed. He didn’t like where this was going.

 

“….You mean an asylum?”

 

Gordon clapped his paws gleefully.

 

“Yes! Besides, Malachy, living in here without ever seeing the light of day all your life…..Why, it must’ve made you mad!”

 

Malachy did not respond to this.

 

Gordon edged towards the door.

 

“Well, I must be off.”

 

And with that, he disappeared, humming quietly as he walked out. Because Gordon Rathblair had no idea if what he was doing was right or wrong (Unlike his bid to secretly have Catherine executed- THAT was definitely doing the right thing, or so he thought, anyway.), but he did not particularly care. The lines between such moralities had always been very blurred for him going as far back to his preteen years.

 

As soon as Gordon was gone, Malachy heaved a bit of a sigh and began to wonder what would become of his fate in recent times. But not before he crept up to the door and whispered:

 

“Gordon, YOU’RE the one who’s mad….”

 

Meanwhile, in her bedroom, Catherine Rathblair was by herself like Malachy had been in the library not too long ago. Catherine very much enjoyed being alone. It gave her time to think, and to simply reflect on many things she did not have time to consider otherwise.

 

Alone, she felt more relaxed and in her element. She had always been that way, even as a young child and the fact that that had not changed gave the wolf some comfort. Currently, she sat at a red velvet window seat and was glancing outside at the ongoing rain.

 

She hated Gordon with a passion, but he was the least of Catherine’s cares at the moment. At the moment she was more stuck in the past, of the life she thought she was going to have after she’d graduated high school, but long before she’d married Gordon as well.

 

During high school, her best friend, period, had been a wolf named Virgil Brooks, born in 1921 and slightly younger. Nonetheless, they remained quite close, and even began dating after college. And so it was that Catherine became Mrs. Virgil Brooks in 1945, and they settled down in an apartment in Old York City, where both wolves had grown up. While she and Virgil didn’t have children and didn’t intend to, they were a blissfully happy couple nonetheless and for the first year everything for Catherine was the norm- or, at least what she’d been expecting life with Virgil to be.

 

But then, in January of 1947 it all unraveled. Admittedly, Catherine had been suspecting Virgil had been seeing another female since mid-November, but he had so vehemently and emotionally denied it she hadn’t questioned him further.

 

But Catherine HAD watched him from a distance- Virgil was going out at night (and sometimes on weekday afternoons too, when he wasn’t working), to play pool, he said. At the beginning, Catherine had been interested; as she enjoyed playing pool, but when she sometimes asked to accompany him, Catherine’s at first well-meaning offers were always turned down.

 

Shortly after New Year’s day, Catherine was greeted far too abruptly by the shattering truth: She had returned to her and Virgil’s apartment after spending New Year’s eve visiting with an old friend, she entered their bedroom (where Virgil could usually be found, perhaps sketching something- it was his hobby), only to find the creature she’d thought was her best friend and husband….. Almost completely undressed and kissing a black, scrawny vixen who had to be at least five years younger than he was!

 

“VIRGIL! WHAT THE HELL?!”

 

Catherine’s anguished scream made Virgil and his secret lover freeze on the bed. They slowly let go of each other, and Virgil slipped his discarded shirt back on.

 

“Cathy…..”

 

His voice was low and smooth.

 

“I can explain.”

 

“I don’t want your half-assed explanations, Virgil Brooks!”

 

“Cathy, Cathy…..”

 

Virgil went on, obviously not caring that Catherine clearly did not want to listen.

 

“I…..It was stupid of me not to tell you. I’ve been seeing Opal for eight months now and we just got so carried away…..”

 

Catherine did not answer at first. Her eyes were trained on the little black fox who was sheepishly putting back on her skirt and thick sweater that had been tossed on the bed.

 

“Opal how old are you?”

 

“I turned twenty-one last month, actually….”

 

She gave a nervous little laugh.

 

Catherine nodded silently. Twenty-one looked about right.

 

“You little bitch, you had better get back to school. And while you’re at it, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

 

Now fully dressed, Opal meekly darted towards the bedroom door and fled.

 

To Virgil, Catherine folded her arms and orated:

 

“I don’t want to see you with her ever again.”

 

“You won’t. Catherine please, I’m so sorry…..”

 

And so Catherine had wordlessly listened to Virgil whine away about just how SORRY he was, but she wasn’t paying attention. The only part she paid attention to and cared about was when he said he’d never chase after other girls again. Catherine grimly hoped he would keep his word.

 

As 1947 progressed, Virgil never went out without Catherine again, but Catherine knew their relationship was beyond saving at this point, and it saddened her. They didn’t even have sexual relations anymore, no. That had long become a thing of the past. Before Opal.

 

As spring faded and began to turn into summer, Catherine knew there was only one thing she thirsted for: Comeuppance. So, a few days after her twenty-eighth birthday (After a luxurious dinner and wine at an uptown restaurant), Catherine mildly suggested a vacation. Virgil agreed, and later that month they were off to Anglicia, specifically to the quiet village of Meadowfax, known for its surrounding beaches and rocky cliffs.

 

On the second night, Catherine knew she’d get no better opportunity. She had planned this straight from the beginning and some primitive instinct told her that the time was now. Shortly after dinner, Catherine took them both on a walk to the cliffs, and the view over the beaches and ocean below was breathtaking. The stars were yellow-tinted diamonds in the blue velvet tapestry of the sky, and Catherine was taken in by its beauty, but even nature was not enough to distract her from her goal.

 

She and Virgil kissed quietly, but even then Catherine felt no emotion in it. After the kiss, they stood on the cliff in silence for a moment, Catherine having put an arm around her husband’s shoulder. He was standing on the very edge of the cliff. Perfect. Quietly, Catherine stole up behind him and pushed him from the rocky, jagged overhang. A single, cut-off cry was the last noise Virgil Brooks IV ever emitted.

 

Moments after the deed was done, Catherine dared a peak down at Virgil’s body. Even from the distance, she could see a grisly silhouette of his corpse from the way it had smashed upon the bed of rocks below. She knew she had no time to waste.

 

Catherine was quick to go to the village police station and report her husband’s death as having been a fall. No one ever suspected otherwise that Virgil might have been pushed. Catherine didn’t hesitate to have Virgil cremated. His ashes were scattered over the Alaric Ocean.

 

After that she had only had four remaining years of independence before being dragged into this hellish arranged marriage. But Catherine knew she would not have to endure this much longer, no. She had a plan. And Catherine Rathblair ALWAYS saw to it her plans were well-executed…..

 

It took Leo some time, but eventually he found his way to Cedric’s house (or to use the more appropriate term, really, cottage), and that was what mattered to him. He waited in front of its unimpressive façade a moment before trying the door. There was a squeal as he eased it open….But it was open!! Perfect. Just. Perfect.

 

As he entered, Leo quietly shut the door behind him. He paused for a moment, however, and began to think. This house, he soon realized, was much too quiet. Dead, much like its original owner. So Leo took the time to cautiously wander the house’s quiet, musty rooms. He was very unimpressed and even angered by what he saw.

 

It was the typical home of an older creature: Small, comfortingly-decorated, and barren of anything that might be of ANY use to him. And most of all, there was the absence of Alice and Jamie. Where the hell could they be, if not here?????

 

Irritated, Leo let out a sigh. Alice and Jamie had left behind no trace whatsoever that they had been here but oh, he would find them. He would. As he left Cedric’s a slight smile crossed Leo’s face. Perhaps he’d have to find those Uslandian schoolgirls again……

 

In Southshire, upon getting home from work (it may have been morning in Scozia, but in Usland it was afternoon), Grace and Karnage found they had little to do except lounge around in the living room and make small talk, along with watching the television set they’d had for a year now, now that televisions were becoming more affordable for the general public.

 

Grace was turning the knob and browsing through the channels when she stopped at a popular news channel from Cape Suzette. She was just about to go back and look for something else to watch but something about this particular broadcast gave her pause, and she went back to the couch.

 

On the screen, two news anchors, one a female leopard and the other a male ferret, both looked particularly somber.

 

“Here we are now, live from Cape Suzette with some particularly shocking national news…. Lyle?”

 

She turned uncertainly to the ferret, who nodded.

 

“I’ll take it from here, Jeanette.”

 

Clearing his throat, Lyle, the ferret wiped at his eyes briefly and then said, grimly:

 

“We…. We’ve just received word that today, just half an hour ago, President Wade Elliott has been shot. Fatally.”

 

Grace’s jaw dropped. Her mouth slowly went dry.

 

“Holy shit…..”

 

She breathed.

 

“President Elliott was killed during his highly-publicized tour of Old York City, it appears an unknown gunbeast had shot him from an apartment window, the bullet striking the top of his head. He was pronounced dead in the ambulance. Local authorities are looking for the assailant, and the funeral is already being planned, but for now…..Our country grieves.”

 

As though under a trance, Grace sluggishly walked back to the television and turned it off. She glanced at Karnage, whose eyes had already dampened with tears. Grace herself felt numb with shock, and her vision was cluttered with tiny black spots. She herself had voted for Elliott during his 1960 election, and respected him very much as a president. Elliott, a pine marten, was known by his critics and supporters alike for being overambitious: Upon entering office at the age of thirty-eight (and unmarried no less!), and now, the fact that he was gone was just so jarring it was surreal.

 

She collapsed onto the couch and put an arm around Karnage’s shoulder. Moments later the wolf began to cry.

 

“Do you think I, WE, should tell Alice and Jamie now? Or wait until they get home?”

 

Grace whispered hoarsely.

 

“I am not knowing…..”

 

Grace clung to him. Karnage buried his face against her neck. Grace licked his muzzle.

 

“….I love you.”

 

“Ti amo siempre….. Why deed dees happen?!”

 

Grace just shook her head.

 

“I don’t know…..I just don’t know…..”

 

Karnage was shaking uncontrollably, so Grace cuddled close to him.

 

“Querida…..”

 

“Ti amo, Felipe.”

 

I love you.

Karnage cried into her shoulder, before the two of them went still and held on to each other in silence.

 

 

About half an hour and several boxes of tissues after Grace and Karnage had gotten the news about President Elliott’s assassination, Grace gathered her churning emotions and called Alice from the phone in her and Karnage’s bedroom.

 

Meanwhile, in Scozia, Alice was in her and Jamie’s room, alone, and sitting on the bed. She had been in the middle of reading a book she’d borrowed from the library when the phone had rang.

 

“Hello?”

 

She went over to the other side of the room, where the phone rested on a marble-topped table, and picked up the receiver.

 

“Alice……Alice I have something very important to tell you.”

 

Alice was taken aback. She recognized her mother’s voice instantly, but what threw her for a serious curve was the fact that Grace sounded like she had been crying, and there was definitely something very grim and distraught in her voice. Alice took a breath. Whatever was going on at home, it was a situation that had to be handled seriously, as was starting to become evident.

 

“Hi mom. What’s wrong?”

 

She whispered.

 

“Alice…..The president’s just been killed. Your father and I just heard it on the news.”

 

Alice was numbed by her mother’s words.

 

“What?!”

 

“Yes!”

 

Grace breathlessly confirmed.

 

“Some sick son of a bitch shot him in Old York, they still don’t know who did it….. Alice what is the world coming to?! It wasn’t like this when I was your age and as a parent….. I always wanted you to have the best life possible. I know I’m going off on a tangent here, but I always want my daughter to be safe. So when you get home to Usland, Alice, I would be careful.”

 

“Okay mom.”

 

Alice felt tears spring to her eyes, and she sorely wished she could be there to comfort her mother in person.

 

“I love you. I’m sorry, but I’ve really gotta go.”

 

Grace sighed.

 

“Goodbye…..”

 

They both hung up nearly at the same time, and Alice sprawled on the bed, scarcely able to absorb what her mother had told her. When Jamie entered moments later, he noticed Alice’s dampened eyes and miserable expression and was instantly concerned.

 

“Alice are you all right??”

 

Alice ignored his question at first.

 

“Where were you just now? While I was at the library?”

 

“I had Mandie take me to the pantry in case either of us ever needs a snack. I’m sorry I was gone so long, but answer me: WHAT HAPPENED?”

 

“Mom just called from Usland.” Alice gasped. “The president’s been killed.”

 

Jamie went silent a while.

 

“…….You’re fucking joking…..”

 

“I wish.”

 

And with that, Alice proceeded to tell her husband everything that Grace had just told her over the phone. When she was done, Jamie just shook his head.

 

“I swear the world we live in gets shittier every day…..”

 

He sighed exhaustedly.

 

Alice rose from the bed and gathered him in a warm, gentle embrace.

 

“It’s not that shitty so long as I’ve got you.”

 

Jamie managed a weak smile.

 

“You’re not that funny.”

 

There was happiness in Jamie’s voice, however, as he said that, and Alice knew she had won.

 

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

 

She playfully retorted, letting go of him briefly and grinning feebly.

 

And then, without a word, they kissed.

 

Gordon lingered in the graveyard. The rain had slowly let up about twenty minutes ago, but it was still foggy and overcast outside. Typical Scozian weather. Glancing at Malachy’s false tombstone, Gordon couldn’t help but smirk. He, Mandie and Catherine were the only ones who knew the gravestone was merely an epitaph and nothing else.

 

Gordon glanced at the grave. It was becoming a pitiful sight as it aged; the stone was weathered from constant rain, and it was surrounded by large patches of moss on the ground. Going over to a little stone bench near the graves, Gordon sat down. He needed some time to himself, and away from that whore Catherine.

 

Briefly, the fox thought back on his childhood and adolescence. He had always had a particularly hard time judging right from wrong; it had just never been clear to him if what he was doing was the right thing or not. When he was eight years old Gordon hazily remembered crying when he was unable to decide on whether or not he wanted to buy candies or a bag of marbles with some of his birthday money.

 

In truth, a vague, peripheral part of him wanted to hurt Malachy. He wasn’t sure why, but it didn’t strike him as being very odd. Because he was older, the title of Lord Rathblair rightfully belonged to Malachy, but Gordon knew that wasn’t ever going to happen so long as he was in charge. Gordon smiled a bit as he rose from the bench and drifted towards the house.

 

Lord Gordon Rathblair had no ability to tell right from wrong and quite frankly, he didn’t care.

 

 

Inside, after talking a few minutes, Alice and Jamie eventually went their separate ways again and Alice took advantage of her time alone to read the book she’d taken from the library. It was rather dull, she found as she read further into it, and seemed to be an archived history of the town of Stowhaven dating back to the 17th century. Alice tried her best to take interest, but there was really nothing in the book that jumped out at her, and even the ancient pen-and-ink engravings that graced the pages seemed sloppy and rushed in their design.

At the very back of the book however, she noticed a pile of repeatedly folded papers that had been attached to the back flap, rather messily in fact. Alice’s curiosity was gnawing at her in a painful way, and she had little choice other than to simply and carefully remove the papers from their current position. Upon separating the documents, Alice found that there were two letters, so she unfolded one of them and quietly read it (after all, just as soon as she was done she could always take these back to the library. No one would ever know.)

 

Dear Kathleen,

How are things at home with you, Gordon and _______? I miss you all terribly, but I’ll have you know that Usland is quite a pleasant change from Scozia, I’m only here to visit an aunt of mine here in Cape Suzette but of course surely you remember that.

Are Gordon and _______ getting too rebellious for you? I should hope not. I’ll be beside you again in three days’ time.

-Gregory

 

It was postmarked November of 1917 and seemed to have been written from a Cape Suzette hotel Alice hadn’t heard of.

 

The wolfdog put the letter aside, noting the instance of odd grammar when Gordon’s name appeared, and one or two words seemed to have been crossed out. But what were they? The letter seemed fairly mundane apart form that, and Alice was thoroughly puzzled. So, hoping for more information, Alice decided to give the other letter (assuming it was a letter) a try.

 

Upon unfolding it, a photograph immediately fluttered out and fell onto the bedcovers, flipping onto its blank side where Alice could clearly see a date: Dec. ’17. Intriguing, but she would turn her attention to the other manuscript at the present time.

 

My dearest Gregory,

I’m happy you’re having such a grand time in Usland and next time don’t hesitate to bring me along! That being said, _______ and Gordon are doing quite well. I hope to see you home soon.

-Kathleen

 

This letter too, was dated 1917 and seemed to have been sent from this very house judging by the information that Alice could find written on it. Only now did she turn her attention to the photograph, which was peculiarly shaped: Upon flipping it over, she saw it featured Kathleen, Gregory, and a very-irritated looking teenage Gordon standing in what seemed to be a room made of stone. At first, it didn’t really grab her attention until she looked a little further and noticed that a portion of the photograph had been removed (probably hacked off with scissors), omitting a fourth creature. A fourth creature. Suddenly it all began to click.

 

Alice thought back to the grave she had seen outside, to a Malachy Rathblair who would have been around Gordon’s age in 1911, when the other picture had been taken. Then it all flooded back to her. On Malachy’s grave he was referenced as being the son of Kathleen and Gregory, the former Lord and Lady Rathblair and the authors of the letters she had just read. How had she missed that?! Oh yes. Her attention had wandered and she’d been paying more attention at the actual grave and the others around it than the caption stating who Malachy’s parents had been, and admittedly so had Jamie’s.

 

But it felt like an embarrassment to Alice now, and everything was finally starting to fall into place. Malachy was Gordon’s brother, probably even his twin if the indications she’d seen were correct. And clearly at least one other name had been censored out of the letters. Probably Malachy. And now that she thought of it, a fourth creature HAD been cut out of the picture she’d looked at! Trembling, Alice looked at the other side of the picture again. She had to squint to read the tinier script written on the bottom corner of the photograph (away from the date), but it read: Me, Kathleen and M. The rest of the name had been scrawled out. M. Malachy. Alice began to analyze further possibilities. If Malachy was alive, it was obvious he was being kept hidden somewhere in the house, as was made evident by his removal from the photograph (in a very eerie-looking stone room no less!), and the gravestone in the cemetery with his name on it. From what she was able to roughly deduce, Malachy clearly was not ‘perfect’ at least, not physically. He had probably been born with some severe mental and/or physical defect that had caused his parents to hide him away in a secret chamber and tell the rest of the world that he was dead.

 

Absolutely sickening, but such a practice was not uncommon at the turn of the century and before, and Alice was well aware that the Rathblairs had far more than enough money and local influence to do so. Heart pounding, Alice refolded the letters and carefully tucked them into her pocket, along with the photograph at the bottom, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her. She had to tell Jamie.


	7. Chapter Six

Alice went into the hallway and was eventually able to flag down Mandie, who informed her that Jamie was just outside near the gate, having a smoke. Alice wasted no time in running out to join him, even though, of course her cigarettes were back at her and Jamie’s bedroom.

 

“Jamie? Jamie!!”

 

She called as she jogged briskly down the path. Jamie was sitting on a little stone bench not unlike the one in the cemetery; it rested atop a bed of moss just to the left of the gate. Upon seeing Alice, he finished smoking and disposed of his cigarette.

 

“Hey Alice. Why the hurry? And what’ve you got there?”

 

Alice took a moment to get her breath before she explained.

 

“I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell wasn’t paying attention to Malachy’s grave when we were looking at the graveyard, but now I’ve found something pretty damn interesting. Look at these.”

 

Alice indicated the letters she held.

 

“I wasn’t really thinking at the time, but Malachy Rathblair was the son of Gregory and Kathleen Rathblair, which would make him Gordon's brother, maybe even his twin. But I found evidence, right here….. That Malachy might be alive. Alive and hidden in that house.”

 

She quietly indicated the hulking shadow of the Rathblair mansion behind them.

 

Jamie was skeptical at best.

 

“Show me the papers then.”

 

Alice gladly handed over the letters, and Jamie read them over, looking suspicious when he finished.

 

“You noticed the blacked-out parts?”

 

“Yep. Weird.”

 

“Now look at the old photograph.”

 

Jamie did, looking even more disturbed when he DID see the noticeably misshapen photograph and then read the writing on the back.

 

“Jamie? What do you think?”

 

Alice asked, concernedly when Jamie didn’t respond for a moment.

 

“This is weird as hell….”

 

His voice was low, but now that he’d seen the evidence, he was starting to become convinced.

 

“Personally, I agree.”

 

Alice looked around a few times, briefly, sighing quietly in relief when she saw no one coming from the house.

 

“I think we’d better get back to our room just so no one hears us talk and gets suspicious.”

 

“Let’s do that.”

 

Without another word between the two, they went back inside.

 

A few hours passed and morning transitioned into early afternoon. Cassie and Arina were just about to begin filming. They’d had discussions for a while before eventually agreeing they’d need no script- this WAS a documentary after all, and so they gathered their equipment and ventured a few miles out of Stowhaven, out onto the moorland, taking their lunches with them for the hike up and afterwards.

 

Finally, after a little less than fifteen minutes of nonstop walking they reached the open moor: It was a vast, green expanse of sweeping field, generously dotted with chunky moss-scabbed boulders, blooming patches of wild heather, and a few wild cherry trees. The air was covered by a fine sheeting of fog, but other than that the weather was fairly decent, and Arina quickly settled down atop one of the rocks, hoisting herself onto it as though it were a seat.

 

A few moments of natural silence passed before Arina got down from the rock and began setting up their film camera, a monstrous black apparatus that had been used for shooting newsreels in the 1940s, acquired secondhand at a thrift store and repaired.

 

“Cassie, you ready?”

 

Arina inquired once she was done.

 

Cassie, who was leaning back against a tree, simply nodded her affirmation.

 

“Yep. Well, here goes nothing!”

 

Arina turned on the camera so that it began rolling, and both young creatures moved so they would both be appearing in the shots.

 

“I’m Cassie Blake.”

 

Cassie boldly proclaimed, indicating herself as she spoke.

 

“And I’m Arina Cartwright!”

 

Arina grinned in an over-the-top manner.

 

“And this is our first documentary, specifically on a certain Scozian urban legend.”

 

Cassie continued, taking a shaky breath.

 

“We’re here today to tell you everything we know about the local Rathblair clan and the nasty secret local legends say they may have, but it’s mostly speculative.”

 

Cassie blushed. She’d always felt a little awkward speaking in public and for her, narrating for a movie was none too different. Arina silently motioned for her to continue. But Cassie wasn’t feeling terribly confident right now- it wasn’t just that she was too embarrassed to speak (that was only part of the problem), but she felt like someone was very close by, and some primitive instinct indeed told her they probably were not alone.

 

“In the fall of 1903, Lady Kathleen Rathblair gave birth to two baby boys, Gordon and Malachy, but Malachy, the intended next Lord Rathblair, was stillborn. Or was he?”

 

Cassie flinched, starting to become uncomfortable. Her jaw began to twitch, as did her tail.

 

Arina, looking worried, immeadietly stopped the filming and addressed her friend.

 

“Cassie? Cassie are you all right????”

 

She took her by the shoulders.

 

Cassie swallowed hard before nodding pathetically, knowing on some level she was doing a terrible job of convincing Arina.

 

“Yes…… I just got….. Stage fright.”

 

“I think it’s more than that. For a minute there you looked like a living statue! Cassie….. is there something else that you’re just not telling me?”

 

Cassie took a few deep breaths before answering. That feeling was getting increasingly stronger, and her fists were clenched at her side.

 

“Arina this is going to sound so silly but…. I don’t think we’re alone right now.”

 

At first Arina didn’t answer. Her best friend was right. The feeling had been fairly subtle with her until now, but yes, she WAS starting to get an eerie feeling that the only creatures here.

 

“Actually Cassie, you’re right.”

 

Cassie, meanwhile, looked increasingly worried.

 

“Maybe we should go back, take a break and start filming later. Someplace else.”

 

“Ladies, I don’t think that’ll be necessary….”

 

Both of them jumped as a creature strode darkly and very arrogantly across the moor towards them. And it was none other than Leo Karnage.

 

At the Rathblair house, Jamie left his and Alices’ room briefly, with the intention of going to the library to see if there was any more writing on Malachy, hidden or otherwise. His walk down the hallway was cut short however, by a slightly disheveled-looking Gordon.

 

“Going somewhere, young Jamie?”

 

The fox lord chuckled, leaning against the wall.

 

Jamie was silent a moment. He knew Gordon was clearly trying to intimidate him, for whatever reason- if this had something to do with Malachy (though Jamie hoped for his and Alice’s sake it did not), he had no idea how anyone had found out that he knew.

 

“Just to the library.”

 

Jamie finally answered, as casually as possible.

 

“Is that so? You seem a bit, er….. Disturbed.”

 

“No, I’m okay.”

 

Jamie kept his tone level.

 

“If you insist.”

 

Gordon was talking as though he was just going to let this little confrontation go and never speak of it again but Jamie knew better- it was far more likely the fox was merely putting up a front to give him a false sense of security. Well, he wasn’t going to fall for that.

 

“Terribly sorry if I’ve caused you any harm.”

 

Gordon added as he walked off, though his voice was cold and lacked emotion. Jamie watched him for a long time before reluctantly continuing on to the library.

 

 

“What I need,” Leo murmured, slowly drawing out his pistol. “Is information on Alice and Jamie Duncan. So please, girls….. Tell me.”

 

“We don’t know any more than you do!”

 

Cassie gasped.

 

“Arina and I only met them about twice!”

 

“That doesn’t matter! They’re not, damn well not at Cedric’s!”

 

Cassie and Arina exchanged uneasy glances. They HAD met Jamie and Alice while they were going to the Rathblair land, and they had been so very jealous at the time. But still, it was quite clearly NOT safe to give Leo this information. Definitely not.

 

“I have no damn idea.”

 

Arina whispered.

 

“Neither do I.”

 

Cassie agreed.

 

But Leo wasn’t going to fall for that.

 

“Bullshit. You know. You both know. I can tell just by looking at you.”

 

“No, we don’t!”

 

Arina protested.

 

Leo, meanwhile, cocked his head and studied them. He grinned. It was a surprisingly handsome smile, making it all the more sadistic. Leo had suddenly got an idea. It would be better, he decided, to just let Cassie and Arina think he believed them and then pretend to walk off. He could always trail them for a distance later just to see if they said anything more.

 

Luring them into a trap of false confidence was something Leo salivated at getting an opportunity to do, and he certainly saw no better opportunity than now. So he wasted no time in saying:

 

“Well then. I’m very sorry to have bothered you two.”

 

His voice was cold but very businesslike. His left eye began to twitch slightly.

 

“Good day.”

 

And with that, Leo soon was gone, disappearing over the hills. But he wasn’t gone in actuality. Not yet anyway. But Cassie and Arina didn’t know that- After all, he wasn’t in THEIR field of vision! And so the two remained there, more than a little disturbed and incredibly baffled.

 

“What the hell was that?”

 

Cassie shook her head slowly as she spoke.

 

“Don’t ask me!”

 

Arina snorted.

 

“Either way we should go, in case he changes his mind.”

 

“Yeah, we can always eat lunch in town. Maybe at the park.”

 

And with that, they picked up their food and equipment and left the moor. Leo meanwhile, was lying in wait behind a moss-covered knoll. He gave a low, callous little chuckle. Those girls had absolutely no idea what was going to hit them, but Leo would see to it that if a need ever arose to oh…. Scratch them up a little, he would make sure they lived. Lived and never forgot.

 

Back at the Rathblair home, Gordon was extremely tense. He’d drifted back into the parlor, where Catherine was sitting in one of the chairs, waiting for him and looking totally unconcerned. At that particular moment he would have loved to strangle her.

 

Keeping silent, however, Gordon took a seat on the other side of the room.

 

“Catherine, things aren’t going quite so well….”

 

He whimpered, sounding more like an upset young child rather than the long-grown adult he was.

 

“What’s upset you now?”

 

Catherine murmured, though her tone was subtly mocking. Gordon bristled.

 

“You don’t care, do you?”

 

He sighed, not bothering to answer Catherine’s question right away.

 

Catherine raised an eyebrow, surprised that her husband would come in with such an outburst. At least, so suddenly.

 

“No, Gordy, I don’t. But keep talking. For the both of us.”

 

She laughed, a smooth, melodious sound but tainted nonetheless.

 

Gordon sighed and paused for a moment. Catherine is truly an uncouth specimen….. He thought. Someone ought to wring that pretty little neck some time.

 

Paws twitching in his lap, Gordon nonetheless went on, putting up an impressive façade of being totally unfettered.

 

“What I believe, Catherine, is that Jamie and Alice may be closer than we think to finding us out. And FINDING MALACHY.”

 

His last words were an urgent, low whisper.

 

“And just how, Gordy, can I help you with that?”

 

“Catherine, I didn’t ask for your input on this.”

 

She shrugged.

 

“You never do.”

 

“As I was saying….. If Malachy is found I will see to it these poor, foolish Uslandian brats will be formally removed from our land and Malachy transferred to a place that may be more adept to….. His needs.”

 

“A mental hospital.”

 

“Precisely.”

 

“And how do you plan on convincing the creatures in charge that Malachy’s insane?”

 

Gordon smiled wryly.

 

“Catherine, all it takes is a few papers which I can very easily have fabricated when necessary. And if that doesn’t do…. Well, the closest way to many a creature’s heart is through his wallet.”

 

“Gordon, all you think about is money.”

 

“So?”

 

“You can’t always throw money at someone and expect them to listen. My first husband tried that and look where he is now.”

 

Gordon grimaced. “That’s besides the point.”

 

He rose and glanced respectfully at a fencing rapier mounted onto the wall. It was about two hundred years old and coated with dust and the clinging carcasses of dead insects.

 

Gordon dusted it off, removed the weapon from its plaque and experimentally thrust it a few times, cleaving dead air. Smiling, he then put it back onto the wall.

 

Catherine smirked at him and walked towards the door. “You’ve damn well done it, Gordy. You’ve damn well done it.” She called, striding out and shutting the door quietly behind her.

Now Gordon was alone, He glanced very longingly back at the sword. Who needed love? He wasn’t like Catherine, who seemed to live and breathe on the stuff, absolutely not. Instead, Gordon was a creature who functioned purely on instincts and intellect alone.

 

And when Catherine would outlive her usefulness (Which he got the feeling was very, very soon), she would pay, oh yes she would. And with far more than just mere money……

 

Leo lingered behind the knoll for some minutes, even after he was certain Cassie and Arina were long gone. Something had changed for the worse, and he knew it. Sitting on his haunches, Leo’s paws began to twitch. His tail writhed against the thin blades of choppy grass and he released an involuntary cry.

 

He wasn’t exactly sure how he felt emotionally, and yet he didn’t know if it were a good thing or not. Finally, he was getting those thoughts again. Subtle yet sadistic thoughts of rape, torture and murder. Now that he’d been seeing so much of his family lately Leo was starting to question if he should start doing those things more frequently….

 

But the question was, would he enjoy them? Leo took a slow breath and imagined taking a child, any child (species, gender and age were totally irrelevant) and torturing them. Slowly, so he could enjoy it. And only killing them when he was done. Leo tried to remember what torture methods Luciano preferred, growing frustrated when he couldn’t remember.

 

Nonetheless, suddenly the thought of violence gave him a sudden bliss, and Leo was glad for that. He had spent the past eight years dealing with a wide range of emotions but he had always felt a certain….. Disconnect until now. He realized he needed to hurt something as soon as possible, and he sure as hell was going to enjoy it.

 

Leo smiled as he got up from the knoll and walked off north. He loved the things he did.

 

Jamie’s anxious tour of the massive library was rapidly becoming exhausting. There seemed to be hundreds of books in this room and obviously he hadn’t even scratched the surface. He was looking for more information on Malachy; especially anything that might offer a clue as to his whereabouts. But so far, he was coming up pitifully emptyhanded.

 

Leaning casually against one of the bookcases, Jamie stopped at as two relatively light volumes caught his eye: They were both very old, and had ornate, gilt-edged spines and raised, embossed titles. The first was A Complete History of the Scozian Peerage and the other, McLeod’s book of Congenital Deformities. Thinking that perhaps at least one of them might contain hidden notes on Malachy, Jamie first removed Scozian Peerage and then McLeod’s, only to find that the pages were glued completely shut.

 

What the hell…..?

 

He thought, absolutely mystified. The dog’s attention was rapidly diverted, however, by the sound of grating, shifting wood. The bookcase had slowly slid back to reveal a gaping, shadowed threshold. Jamie’s heart skipped a beat. Was the true Lord Rathblair hidden just past the horizon, past the shadows and the rotting must? There was only one way to find out and Jamie was getting a strong feeling he wasn’t going to get an opportunity like this once again if he backed out. It was now or never.

 

He took a deep breath, put the books back on their appropriate shelf and lingered in the black until the door had sealed. He spent several minutes feeling his way in the eerie gloom, noticing the walls were either stone or else a very hard, rough wood. Eventually he was able to take a few steps forward and felt the sloping transition of two or three small steps. Then, a door, this one unlocked.

 

Jamie flinched instinctively as what he guessed was brass of a doorknob brushed against his paw but then he held his breath, and opened the door. A croaking squeal, but then silence.

 

However, Jamie entered into a room that was fairly well-lit in stark contrast with the entryway. Slowly, he took in the atmosphere of his new ambience. It was a fairly large, rough-walled room with two small doors branching off, one presumably into a bathroom and another to a closet. There was a bed, a bookcase, and a few chairs. But no radio and absolutely no television.

 

Slowly, he focused on a figure sitting secluded in another chair, at the very back of the room. The chair’s occupant was a male fox; whose fur was a strange, dull reddish color, and his eyes a murky brown. His resemblance to Gordon was nothing short of uncanny. But unlike Gordon, Malachy appeared misplaced and surreal to Jamie because of his marked deformities: Eight fingers on one paw, three on another, his clubbed footpaws (he wore no shoes), and most jarringly, the two little slits where his nose should have been.

 

Upon seeing the stunned interloper in the doorway, Malachy slowly rose, instantly recalling what Gordon had told him if anyone apart from the designated visitors were to find him. He quickly came under the assumption that this unlucky visitor was Jamie Duncan, Cedric’s relation, and if Malachy turned out to be wrong….Well, he would deal with that if it happened.

 

“Mr. Duncan…..”

 

He took a breath.

 

“Please forgive me if I got that wrong. But…..I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”

 

Before Jamie could even utter one syllable in his defense Malachy spoke again:

 

“Yes, yes, I AM Malachy Rathblair and I’m alive, despite popular belief. My brother, whom you’ve probably met, has disallowed me visitors. Now if you’d be so kind as to leave…..”

 

Jamie edged towards the doorway. The glare Malachy was giving him was more than enough for anyone to know they weren’t wanted.

 

“I…. I’m very sorry, sir.”

 

He stuttered, tripping messily over his words.

 

“Yes, yes, you’re sorry, everyone is ALWAYS sorry. Now please…. Get out!”

Jamie needed no second bidding, and turned towards the door, shutting it wordlessly behind him. He returned to the cramped little hallway, and spent a few minutes feeling the walls until he found a rough metal surface poking between wall paneling. A lever? Hoping fervently that it was, Jamie yanked it skyward. Light appeared as the bookcase slid back.

 

Moments after he had emerged back into the library, the bookcase returned to block the door that as far as the untrained observer was concerned, didn’t exist in the first place. Was Malachy still watching him, somewhere? Unsure, Jamie quickly fled the library just as the feelings of intense claustrophobia began to gnaw away at him.

 

Jamie raced down the hallway and flung his and Alice’s bedroom door open before shakily shutting it behind him. His wife was pacing the room and looking extremely anxious. As soon as she saw Jamie in the doorway, Alice gave a tired smile and slumped into a chair.

 

“What happened now? More Rathblair ghosts?”

 

She half-teased.

 

Jamie shook his head slowly.

 

“You have no idea…..”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Alice looked up.

 

“Alice, you’re not gonna believe what I just saw. Trust me. You’re gonna laugh.”

 

“Tell me anyway, try me.”

Jamie took a moment to compose himself.

 

“Just a few minutes ago….. I saw….. Malachy Rathblair.”

 

Alice’s eyes widened in shock.

 

“…..Where??”

 

“The library. Behind a bookcase. I… I just took out these two books, and a hidden door opened! Of course, you know how I am, I HAD to go see what was back there. So I went behind the bookcase and found this room…. And in that room was…. Malachy.”

 

“And then?”

 

Alice’s voice was hushed now.

 

Jamie shrugged.

 

“He told me to get out, but I don’t really blame him.”

 

He lowered his voice:

 

“Alice, if anyone else finds out about this we are DEAD.”

 

“Jamie, I already know that.”

 

Alice sighed exhaustedly.

 

“I’m sure they’ll kick us out. And then what? Pay us so we’ll shut up?”

 

“I’d bet they would.”

 

“Then in that case…..”

 

Alice began.

 

“It’s simple: Just act as normal as possible, especially when we’re around Gordon and Catherine. As far as anyone else knows, we never saw Malachy.”

 

Jamie nodded. There wasn’t much else they could do except for that.

 

“And if it gets to be too much….. Let’s just go back to Cedric’s.”

 

Alice concluded.

 

“Cedric’s is starting to look better and better right now.”

 

“I agree. I completely agree.”

 

And with that, they held each other and began to discuss what to do next.

 

Catherine damn well needed some air. Her recent argument with Gordon had been completely obnoxious; and the sooner she distanced herself from him the better. As she left the grounds of the estate and departed into Stowhaven, the wolf reminded herself that she would not have to put up with this for very much longer.

 

How exactly was Catherine planning to murder Gordon, you may wonder? Simple enough: She planned to castrate him, and just the very concept of it made Catherine grin with delight. She knew Gordon couldn’t stand the thought of ever having to be without his beloved masculinity- just look at the size of his ego! And the fact that there were dozens of antique, ceremonial swords and daggers in storage all over the house made accessibility all the easier.

 

It was only a matter of waiting now, but what WAS she waiting for? To be honest, Catherine was not quite sure and it truly irritated her. These thoughts lingered at the back of her mind as she walked into Stowhaven and the wolf decided she would think about this over a drink. Certainly not enough to get drunk; only a glass or two at most. But at the moment, alcohol was most certainly what she craved and as Lord Rathblair’s wife, who in their right mind was going to deny her that?!

 

Catherine was smiling subtly as she walked into a local nightclub/eatery called the Mob. There were dozens, mostly male patrons already seated by the time she entered, and few acknowledged her presence; the ones who did offering polite greetings like

 

“Good after’noon, milady.”

 

And Catherine obliged them with a crisp shrug, muttering

 

“Hello, boys.”

 

As she drifted past.

 

In the end, Catherine had one and a half glasses of wine, but that proved to be enough for her. She swiftly paid and was preparing to leave when a certain something gave her pause….. At that moment, a particularly young-looking, wolfish dog entered onto the stage; his fur a handsome dark brown, almost black if you looked it at under a certain light.

 

Catherine was amused by him the minute she saw him; she’d seen males like that a million times before, her own Virgil had most certainly been one: Those brash, bigheaded young males who are far too full of testosterone to even for one moment think of anyone other than themselves. However, what actually made her stay, ironically….. Was his voice.

 

Despite his young age, this kid was clearly a pretty good singer, and Catherine found herself listening as he sang:

 

“I don’t have plans and schemes, and I don’t have hopes and dreams, I…. I don’t have anything, since I don’t have you. I don’t have fond desires, and I don’t have happy hours, I…. I-I don’t have anything since I don’t have you….”

 

Catherine found that he sang the 50’s love ballad very well, and even if she didn’t like the dog- probably wolfdog- personally, she was at least going to admit he had a decent singing voice. After his performance was over, Catherine lingered by the stage and took the opportunity to pull the young creature aside, telling him:

 

“That was an excellent performance you put on. What’s your name, kid?”

 

He grinned arrogantly and whispered in her ear:

 

“I may call myself Landino but….. It’s Leo. Leo diVenazetti.”


	8. Chapter Seven

“Catherine. Catherine Rathblair.”

She stuck out her paw.

 

“Rathblair? As in, Lord Gordon Rathblair?”

 

Leo smirked visibly.

 

“Yes. Unfortunately, I’m his wife.”

 

“Well, you certainly don’t seem to happy about it, do you?”

 

He chuckled, but more to himself than to Catherine, and she gave him an odd look.

 

“I have zero affection for Gordon. None. And he’s never felt that way towards me, either.”

 

She shrugged.

 

“My father made it perfectly clear twelve years ago that I was going to be some foreign lord’s trophy wife whether I liked it or not.”

 

“And?”

 

Catherine stopped herself before she went on. She was telling Leo far too much about herself as it was. So she simply waved a paw dismissively in his direction.

 

“Nothing. It’s not your business, after all.”

 

Leo leaned a little closer.

 

“Can I make it my business?”

 

“No.”

 

She turned to leave, but he grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her around.

“Tell me, Catherine, how much do you despise your husband?”

 

The wolfdog hissed.

 

“I would love it if he were dead.”

 

“….. That can be arranged.”

 

Catherine studied Leo’s face for a long time to see if he was joking. Based on his expression, he certainly didn’t seem to be.

 

“You really are serious?”

 

Catherine’s voice dropped to a whisper.

 

Leo only nodded.

 

Catherine looked around briefly.

 

“Let’s take this outside, shall we?”

 

They retreated between a small grove of trees outside the Mob, and Catherine folded her arms, giving Leo a stare like ice.

 

“I’ve barely met you. Why are you so damn interested if my husband lives or not?”

 

Leo grinned broadly.

 

“Think of me as….. A mercenary. If you want Gordon out of your life, I’d be glad to assist you…..”

 

Catherine shook her head.

 

“Thank you but no thank you. I have a plan already and I can carry it out well enough by myself.”

 

Leo began to retreat slightly away.

 

“All right but…. Let me know if you ever change your mind.”

 

“And just where can I contact you?”

 

Leo told Catherine the name of the hotel he was staying at, as well as its address. She made a quick mental note of it and said:

 

“Well, I’ll see you around, maybe. Leo. Landino. Whoever the hell you are.”

 

She gave a low chuckle and departed in the direction of her and Gordon’s house. Well, at least Gordon wouldn’t be living in it for much longer if she got her way…..

 

Gordon, meanwhile, was alone in the smoking room at the time of Catherine’s return. As the door opened into the hallway and he could distantly hear the sound of her calling a greeting to Mandie, the fox lord scowled. That bitch.

 

Wanting to avoid his wife as much as he possibly could at the moment; it eventually dawned on Gordon that he had nothing better to do than drop in on Malachy. And come to think of it, why not? Sighing under his breath, Gordon left the smoking room and headed in the direction of the library, entering Malachy’s rooms through the bookcase of course. Outside his brother’s door, Gordon, grinning, rapped on the wooden surface twice.

 

At first there was no answer, but then he heard an irritated, gruff:

 

“Come in….”

 

Malachy was sitting on the bed when Gordon entered, and glared at his brother upon arrival.

 

“What the bloody hell do you want, Gordon?”

 

Gordon chuckled.

 

“Not in a terribly good mood today, are we Malachy? I’ve only come into say hello, exchange greetings, all that silly buffoonery.”

 

Malachy didn’t answer for a moment. It was typical of Gordon to put up airs of nonchalance and friendliness when in actuality he was hiding something quite unpleasant beneath his cheerful surface. And besides, Malachy knew Gordon was very rarely capable of legitimate happiness anyway, so he took time figuring out an appropriate response, eventually answering:

 

“Nothing, Gordon, but does it ever occur to you that sometimes your beloved brother needs privacy?”

 

Gordon snorted at Malachy’s sarcastic emphasis on the word beloved.

 

“Yes, yes, of course Malachy. In fact, you’re entitled to it. But I’d like to know: That sweet young pair from Usland, Jamie or Alice have never been here, have they?”

 

Malachy shrugged.

 

“Never.”

 

Gordon hesitated. Malachy’s words sounded authentic but something told him his brother was lying, so he persisted.

 

“Oh really? Is that so?”

 

“Gordon, why would I lie to you?”

 

“Because you’re a spoiled, silly twat who’s just jealous for not getting the title you were supposed to!”

 

Malachy bit back a laugh. Honestly, he begged to differ.

 

“Gordon that’s very silly of you.”

 

“I should not like to think so.”

 

Gordon sniffed, pacing the room a moment.

 

“Malachy, you MUST tell me the truth on whether or not either of the Uslandians were here. You must. It’s very essential.”

 

Malachy stiffened visibly. If Jamie had spoken to Gordon about their brief meeting earlier he knew his days were numbered. Still, he asked:

“Supposing I don’t tell you the truth.”

 

Gordon smiled, but it didn’t contain an ounce of happiness; only taciturn, sadistic glee.

 

“Well then, Malachy, I have plenty of ways to MAKE you tell the truth. Flaying. Impalement. A rack.”

 

He grinned a little.

 

“I don’t have to do this conventionally, Malachy; I learned this all straight from the books. As we both know it, this is a very old house and I’m sure I could find all the materials I need, if not more. So which is it?”

 

Malachy shook his head and stared at Gordon for the longest time. The slightly younger fox was growing more impatient.

 

“Don’t give me that look, Malachy! So….. Which is it? Will you tell me the honest, legitimate truth, or will I have to force it out of you?”

 

Malachy sighed. Unless he could find some way to escape (which he intended to) he was going to end up in institutionalized either way, might as well take the less painful route. “I’ll tell.”

 

Gordon looked approving.

 

“Thank you!”

 

“Yes….. To answer your fucking question, Gordon, I was visited by a Jamie Duncan. He stumbled across me by accident and I thereafter requested that he leave. Are you satisfied now?”

 

Gordon retreated to the door, leering.

 

“Yes. Yes it does Malachy. Thank you. You know where this will go from here……”

 

And with that, Gordon departed the room, smiling as he did. He didn’t know why, but he was happy.

 

As soon as he was out of the library; Gordon wasted absolutely no time in getting to Alice and Jamie’s bedroom. He had dire business to attend to, and getting these pathetic young meddlers out of the house was fast becoming a major priority. Upon arriving outside the closed bedroom door, Gordon knocked once, stiffly. Then again. Initially, there was only silence.

 

“Who is it?”

 

Jamie’s voice faintly carried through to Gordon through the wood.

 

“Only your lowly host.”

 

The door opened, and Gordon took a few steps back as he noticed that Alice was only inches in front of him and was giving him a VERY irritated glare. Jamie joined her moments later.

 

“The hell do you want?”

 

Alice grated, paws on her hips.

 

Gordon smirked, his smooth and unfettered attitude not changing in the slightest.

 

“Only to tell you that you are no longer welcome in this house.”

 

Instantly knowing the reason why, Jamie gritted his teeth and sighed. Alice attempted to comfort him by placing a paw on his shoulder, both intently listening to what the fox lord had to say next.

 

“It has come to my attention that you have learned of the existence of my older brother, Malachy. And I’m afraid we cannot have that, now can we? In response to your rather foolhardy wanderings, I’m sorry to say that both of you are banished from this land.”

 

He bowed and looked almost smugly apologetic.

 

“Now, I have no right to tell you to leave this town. After all; I’m not the mayor of Stowhaven!”

 

Here Gordon chuckled weakly, attempting to laugh at his own pathetic joke.

 

“But that aside, you are prohibited from trespassing onto this estate again. And I will see to it that Malachy will be going someplace where creatures such as yourself will not find him. You have one hour to pack and be out of here, Amanda will assist you with anything you need.”

 

Just before he walked away, Gordon lingered, watching Jamie and Alice’s faces to gauge their reactions. The looks of hate and resentment had not faded a bit, and he gave a low, callous laugh as he walked away, but not before hearing Alice’s growled words:

 

“You can do whatever you want to us, Gordon, but we’ll still be right here in town…..”

 

Jamie snorted.

 

“Maybe we’ll even be your ruin!”

 

Gordon dismissed their taunting, hate-filled words as he left. Why were they so angry? He was doing the right thing! And besides, he wasn’t as far gone as Catherine, no. Gordon was becoming utterly convinced that if anyone was mentally unstable, it was her.

 

What a pity….. But not a terribly large one!

 

Gordon thought callously to himself as he walked off and disappeared into the hallway.

 

After Gordon’s self-worshipping (and very painful to watch) exit, Alice and Jamie were alone, and they wasted no time in packing up their various personal effects into their suitcases.

 

“I feel so damn sorry for Malachy….”

 

Jamie sighed after they were done.

 

“All right, but don’t go blaming yourself. You had no idea he was there in the first place and your curiosity DID get the better of you.”

 

“Did I say I was blaming myself?”

 

Jamie grinned weakly.

 

“Nope.”

 

“Then relax. I’m not. But still…. Wonder what Gordon’s gonna do to him now?”

 

Alice winced. The very thought of Malachy having spent his entire life in a secret, hidden room behind the library alone was enough to churn her stomach, but what sort of gruesome punishment his brother would undoubtedly dole out now was almost too painful to imagine. However, Alice did not really pity Malachy per se; though she felt that regardless, his situation was horrifying as well as infinitely depressing. So she said:

 

“I don’t pity Malachy, but him having a life like that is such a tragedy.”

 

An almost unearthly silence.

 

Then Alice continued:

 

“We should get going, though, before Gordon or even Catherine has us thrown out….. But I think I DO know two creatures who should know about this.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Cassie and Arina. I remember the last time we saw them they mentioned something about doing a documentary on the Rathblair’s.”

 

Jamie’s eyes lit up with recognition.

 

“Yes, now I remember! Well if anyone would be interested it’s them.”

 

“Definitely, but we should warn not to tell Catherine and Gordon we sent them, if they ever come here. That’s a must.”

 

Jamie nodded wordlessly, and with that the two quietly departed back to Cedric’s house, where they’d probably feel infinitely more welcome anyway.

 

Cailean Dunnmore the badger smuggler was far from happy as he guided his ancient 1940s car down the path to Stowhaven. He’d been informed the previous night via an informant of his who lived in the town that the young fool who’d had the sheer nerve to insult him in public had FINALLY been located.

 

He’d been given the name and address of the boy’s hotel, (since that’s essentially what Leo was; really, being barely into his mid-twenties) as well as a possible room number should Dunnmore see him in that part of town. The badger was perfectly fine with that- and should he ever see his rather bold attacker, he sure as hell was ready- the polished black handle of his switchblade just barely poked out of one of his pants pockets. He was more than thrilled to do this, and the badger was grinning as he pulled into Stowhaven and brought the car to a stop in the parking lot of his assailant’s current residence. Quickly and wordlessly, he went to the front of the building and hastily entered.

 

Meanwhile, in the shallow comfort of his hotel room Leo was thinking brutally sadistic thoughts while sitting in a plush armchair and watching some new Scozian show he wasn’t entirely paying attention to at the moment. After several minutes the wolf dog was roused by a very loud, harsh rapping at the door.

 

“Hello?”

 

Leo turned the television off and reluctantly unlocked the door. He would later wish he hadn’t. Standing in the doorway glaring brutally at him was none other than Cailean Dunnmore from Evensburgh.

“Kid,”

 

He grated.

 

“You are certainly, undoubtedly going to get fucked.”

 

The badger removed his switchblade from his pocket and clicked it.

 

“Do you really think that I’m going to go down without a fight?”

 

Leo just laughed.

 

Dunnmore shook his head.

 

“No, but I came prepared for that!”

 

And with that, he lunged at Leo with the switchblade. Leo narrowly managed to dodge and punched Dunnmore in the jaw. He retaliated and struck Leo at the end of his muzzle, hitting him in the nose and causing blood to squirt out of it. Leo gasped and was temporarily handicapped but moments later was soon back to striking and clawing at Dunnmore, though if anyone ever had the upper hand; it was the badger: He was older and far more musclebound whereas Leo was younger, more slender, and therefore far much less experienced.

 

"You fucked with the wrong badger!"

 

Dunmore rasped, lunging forward.

 

Leo couldn't quite dodge, and received a blow to the eye.

 

"And I don't even think YOU know who you're dealing with!"

 

Leo's voice was the oral epitome of savage rage, and all he cared about and COULD think about right now was listening to Dunmore's screams as he ripped off his front paws and forepaws and made him eat them.

 

"Then tell me yourself."

 

Dunmore smirked.

 

Leo's rage heightened. He grabbed the badger's shirt collar and whispered:

 

"You're brutalizing a son of Don Luciano diVenazetti. The Dogfather."

 

For a moment Dunmore looked almost intimidated, slightly. However, he was quick to regain his composition. He threw back his head and laughed humorlessly.

 

"Your mother was a cocksucker and your mother was a whore!"

 

That was far more than enough to set Leo off even more, and he began fervently, desperately grasping for his mad epiphanies to become his blissful reality.

 

The two continued to punch and jab at each other with almost entirely their fists until Dunmore raised a brass-knuckled fist and struck Leo viciously over his formerly unbruised eye.

 

The fight continued for several minutes more in this manner until it was clear there was no winner. Dunmore, glancing at Leo with something resembling satisfaction, was quick to flee into the corridor. Fortunately for Leo, Dunmore had dropped his switchblade……..

 

Leo gave a high-pitched, offbeat little chuckle as he bent to examine his new prize. This was an excellent switchblade; far, far better than that silly piece of junk he’d snatched from that raccoon mugger eight years ago. No, Dunmore was most certainly not going to miss *THIS* blade….. Keeping that in mind, Leo held it close to him and shut the hotel room door behind him.


	9. Chapter Eight

The following morning at the Rathblair home was a somber one. No, it did not start out murky and gray and full of moody thunder clouds. That’s a cliché best left for the movies. Instead; it was a near-perfect May morning: Warm, breezy, and full of sunlight, with clouds that drifted sluggishly across the turquoise canvas of the sky.

 

Malachy Rathblair sat on the front steps of the mansion, completely unfazed, a battered suitcase by his footpaws. Every once in a while he would glance up at the sky, not particularly caring he wouldn’t be seeing much of it for however long he was going to be institutionalized- probably forever if Gordon got his way, which he probably would. Malachy (who was dressed inexplicably formally in a brown corduroy suit and black tie) had no watch, but estimated he’d been sitting out here for little more than ten minutes.

 

The ambulance, police car, unmarked car, whatever Gordon had sent would be here shortly, and yet Malachy did not particularly care. Though he had once been upset by this; he knew now that being locked up and forgotten about was his destiny now, and nothing was going to change that. He felt absolutely no pity for himself and was ready to meet his fate.

 

He was a bit startled, however, when Gordon emerged from the front door and stood beside him.

 

“Good morning, brother.”

 

He smiled.

 

Malachy sighed.

 

“What in bloody hell are you doing here?”

 

Gordon was suddenly the picture of innocence.

 

“Oh, I merely wanted to see you off. Don’t mind me.”

 

Malachy looked up however, as he noticed Gordon was holding a Sterling silver, oval-shaped locket he vaguely remembered as having belonged to their mother Kathleen, and also that it contained their parents’ wedding picture from 1897. Before he could ask his brother what, exactly, was he doing with their mother’s locket, Gordon emotionlessly tossed the fragile piece of silver to the ground and crushed it under his footpaw.

 

Malachy’s jaw went slack.

 

“Gordon do you realize---“

 

Gordon just clapped one paw to his temple and waved his free one dismissively.

 

“No matter Malachy, it’s no matter at all… You just wait here until someone comes and gets you.”

 

And with that, he hurried off inside, and Malachy wondered if his brother was finally going to snap. If he was, that would in the very least be amusing. The fox, however, was distracted by the clanging of the front gates being opened and the distant but increasingly-louder sound of an older car sputtering down the drive.

 

It was a very old but renovated mid-1930s Crossley silver, painted a hideous shade of cherry-red with a decal emblazoned on the side, with the name HACKBROOK ASYLUM FOR IDIOTS AND LUNATICS printed in black lettering. Malachy vaguely remembered having heard of Hackbrook; it was a mental institution a little more than half an hour out of town, and judging by its now politically-incorrect name, he guessed it was slightly older than he was.

 

He watched as an older-looking male vole in a rumpled gray suit emerged from the car, slamming the door to the cab as he did, staring a bit curiously at Malachy; obviously taking note of the fox’s physical defects. In response, Malachy glared at him.

 

The vole, realizing he had little time to exchange words, was very quick to state his business after that:

 

“Malachy Rathblair?”

 

He asked, rather quietly.

 

Malachy just nodded.

 

“Ahh. Your brother arranged your papers just yesterday.”

 

The vole glanced momentarily up at the sky and back to MAlachy, clapping his paws briefly.

 

“Well, we haven’t any time to lose, do we now?”

 

Without another word, he went back to the cab and Malachy silently got into the backseat. As the old car steadily pulled away from the Rathblair home, however, Malachy saw Catherine sitting on the steps and grinning like a young debutante trapped in the body of the forty-three-year-old that she was.

 

She gave a smirk and feebly waved. Malachy did not feel particularly compelled to wave back.

 

As the dinosaur of a Crossley lurched out of the invisible borders marking the Rathblair land, Malachy found himself drawn to looking at the window, staring at the sky and marveling at how blue and infinite it was.

 

He’d been denied the simplest of pleasures such as this all his life and now, if only for a brief moment, he was going to make up for that. The fox glanced out of the car, spring sunlight reflecting on the window in a golden glow. Malachy laid a paw on the somewhat-dirty glass and was pleasantly surprised by its warmth, so he kept it there a moment longer.

 

As the drive to the asylum continued, Malachy knew he had no plans for falling asleep to pass the time. He would probably be at Hackbrook in little more than forty minutes, and he wasn’t going to waste a millisecond of the time he had left. However, the fox wondered if this would also be the LAST time he would ever went outside. Malachy wouldn’t have been surprised if it were; and if that turned out to be so, he’d still be contented. He’d gotten to see what the world beyond the four walls of his stone prison room were like, however briefly, and it was more than enough to content him.

 

Malachy continued to watch as the soft-looking grass and paved roads of Stowhaven gave way to rural countryside, the road now a narrow, twisting band of dirt. Malachy kept watching until the car pulled into an isolated little town that reminded him somewhat of Stowhaven based on what he’d gotten to see.

 

It seemed quaint, folksy, and overall fairly charming; however it also seemed impoverished, if not very slightly under populated. The first sign the car passed read:

 

TOWN OF HACKBROOK

 

Population: 467

 

A little town indeed. Malachy silently wondered how many of those 467 residents were incarcerated in the asylum; if they indeed were counted in the census at all.

 

The drive through Hackbrook took little more than five minutes, before the car pulled up in front of a somewhat gloomy but not terribly hideous place to house the mentally ill: A two-story sandstone building roughly the size of an average elementary school; and almost all of its windows had the blinds pulled down. So, this was it.

 

As the car eventually stopped, Malachy glanced around at his surroundings. He had entered into a quiet, mossy courtyard littered with a few stone benches, though that was all. Crocuses and wilted daffodils grew sporadically in the soil, and there weren’t many trees to be seen.

 

Malachy lingered outside a moment, taking in these surroundings before going to the door and entering the asylum.

 

Upon entering the asylum, Malachy entered into a dusty little front office that would have seemed more appropriate at a public library: Brown paint covered the walls, dust littered the floor and it was empty save for a few chairs and a bookcase. Nonetheless, it did not strike the fox as a particularly intimidating room, so he went up to the front desk where a bored-looking female otter was sitting and proceeded to fill out the various papers he was given.

 

When that was done, Malachy felt he had to inquire:

 

“Ma’am, are you aware of how many other patients there are in this facility?”

 

The otter shrugged.

 

“Less than ten. Only about seven or eight or so; last I counted. Excludin’ you.”

 

“Thank you. Are you aware of what room I’ll be staying in?”

 

“16, it’s right down the hall.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Malachy nodded to her and walked down the very narrow hallway leading to various patient rooms. He found the sixteenth and tried the door. It wasn’t locked, thankfully, so the fox let himself in and then shut the door behind him.

 

The room he had entered in was very small; though it was also hauntingly quiet. Momentarily, this DID make Malachy think of his room at home, and inevitably the comparison did come up. However, after a moment the fox began to think he would probably like this better: At least he was able to leave the room as he pleased; and it seemed nice enough: Dull brown wallpaper, a bed (Really more of a cot) with a few blankets draped over it, and another small door that presumably opened into a bathroom or closet.

 

At the end of the room there was a window, its view obscured by gauzy white curtains which Malachy, after depositing his suitcase on the floor near the bed, drew back to reveal pale golden, nearly-translucent shafts of sunlight streaming weakly through the window. Now matter how many times he looked outside it STILL wasn’t going to feel any less incredible.

 

Smiling, Malachy left the curtains drawn back and returned to the bed, sitting down on the side of it before lying down. Perhaps he was going to like it here after all.

 

In the hour that dragged sluggishly by following Malachy’s incarceration in the town of Hackbrook, Catherine was noticing some disturbing changes in her husband. Gordon was acting unusual, Even for his standards. Catherine noted as she watched her much-maligned spouse from a distance.

 

They were both outside, by Malachy’s grave, Catherine sitting on the little stone bench and reading, while Gordon lingered at the graveside; repeatedly running a paw down Malachy’s name and supposed death date.

 

“I don’t think that’s very healthy, Gordy.”

 

Catherine remarked, taking a slow drag on her cigarette.

 

At first, the fox lord didn’t turn to face his wife; he continued to stare at the grave as though he was right in front of Malachy himself.

 

Breath coming in slow, harsh rasps, Gordon shakily rose and gave Catherine a very long stare, and if looks could kill she would have been dead on the spot.

 

“Catherine……”

 

He grated, fists clenched at his side.

 

“I would very much like……. If you would leave me alone right now……”

 

Catherine got up and took more than a few steps back so that there was more than a short distance between herself and her inexplicably-tense husband, who seemed to be on the verge of outright anger.

 

“What the fuck has gotten into you?” Catherine chided, rather condescendingly at that.

 

“Ahh, enough of that, you bitch!”

 

Gordon lunged at her, but Catherine nimbly ducked, dropping her cigarette as she did. She calmly smashed it under a footpaw and gave Gordon an icy smile.

 

“Gordon if you’re going to be like that, I’m getting the hell away from you.”

 

She turned on her heels and left the graveyard then, leaving Gordon mercifully alone.

Gordon dropped to his knees on the mossy earth, panting and gasping, sounding twenty years older than his age of fifty-nine. Slowly, he began to calm. What had happened to him in the past few minutes wasn’t extremely clear (He vaguely recalled being extremely angry with Malachy and Catherine. Especially Catherine, the double-dealing slut); and he felt vaguely confused, but the fox was absolutely certain of one thing: He had to cover this bizarre situation up; and convince Catherine he was fine.

 

Granted, the second objective was going to take some effort but Gordon was more than willing. And besides; he figured he knew the exact thing to calm him down.

 

The fox went into the house then, and wasted no time in going through his mother’s medicine cabinet; which remained in her bathroom, which adjoined her perfectly-preserved bedroom.

 

Shutting the door behind him, Gordon went in and flung the wooden doors open. At the top were the most recent items; miscellaneous bottles of pills that were nineteen years old at the youngest, and at the very bottom shelf was an assortment of various medicine bottles; all undrank.

 

Gordon was very familiar with these fragile glass bottles; while he was very young, Kathleen Rathblair had been diagnosed as ‘hysteric’. Gordon couldn’t have been any older than eight at the time, and he still remembered that from that day forward, Kathleen had never gone without her various medications.

 

But it was only the tonics that would do. They always HAD been the ones that worked the best; and Gordon knew his mother had complained piteously when they’d stopped being manufactured. For this reason, the fox knew he had to savor every drop, make it count. Shakily, he reached into the cabinet and withdraw a dusty bottle labeled: Bromocarpine nerve tonic.

 

Gordon removed the cap at the top and poured a little into a tarnished silver spoon nearby, just enough to fill it without it overflowing. Excellent. He held the spoon to his mouth and swallowed, wincing instantly at the taste: The medicine tasted vaguely of alcohol, poorly masked with some cloying artificial sweetener. The fox gagged for a few minutes after taking it, but was quick to put the spoon and the bottle back in the medicine cabinet just as soon as that was over.

 

Locking the bedroom door as soon as he’d gone, Gordon emerged into the hall, eyes rapidly darting around the area for Catherine.

 

“Catherine….. Catherine??”

 

He called.

 

No answer.

 

Mandie Underwood tentatively stepped into the front hall, glancing up at Gordon from where he stood on the stairs.

 

“You’ll find Lady Catherine in her room, Sire.”

 

“Thank you Amanda.”

 

And with that, Gordon turned and departed back up the stairs in the direction of Catherine’s bedroom.

 

Silently, Gordon passed through the hallway and lingered outside Catherine’s door. It was closed. He was smiling coldly as he took the doorknob and slowly, silently pulled it open. In the bedroom, Catherine was sitting on the window seat with her back to the fox. Gordon noted with a little chuckle that she still hadn’t bothered to change out of that hideously tacky black dress; the same one she’d worn while seeing Malachy off earlier that morning.

 

Catherine herself, however, slowly turned on the fading cushions, smiling slyly at her husband from a relatively safe vantage point.

 

“Seems like someone’s gotten a hell of a lot better.”

 

The smile faded gracefully as Catherine rose from the seat and walked a little to the left, Gordon smugly watching every move.

 

Catherine’s heart was beating erratically between her ribs as she ran a paw along the wall. This was the moment she’d waited twelve long years for; far too long for her to have suffered the way she had. But regardless, the time had finally come for her to rid herself of Gordon Rathblair and all his petty egotistical tendencies.

 

The wolf’s paw came to a stop a wooden wall plaque. Slid between its two rusting metal brackets was an antique claymore. Catherine gave an eerie little chuckle as she ran a claw briefly along its seemingly-smooth surface, however it faded just as soon as she removed the claymore from the wall and thrust it in front of her, very awkwardly, but having achieved the motion.

 

Gordon shook his head as though in pity.

 

“Catherine, dear, you aren’t half-bad for somebeast who’s never handled a sword in her life….”

 

Catherine bared her teeth in slowly-mounting wrath.

 

“Ohh, I know what you’re going to say. Why aren’t I afraid? Where’s my…. Reaction?”

 

Gordon looked as though he was going to burst into laughter at any second.

 

Catherine stared at him in utter horror. How did he know? How??

 

“How….Gordon, how do you….?”

 

She gasped, her voice suddenly dry.

 

“I’ve watched you. I have my allies; you know. It was rather foolish of you to confide your little plan in Amanda, Catherine. She was more than happy to tell me.”

 

“How long have you known this?”

 

Gordon brushed her off dismissively

 

“Long enough. But I opted not to try anything until you did the same.”

 

The fox was caught off-guard, a moment later however, as Catherine attempted to charge him with the claymore.

 

“Gordon, you bastard!”

 

She roared.

 

The fox lord nimbly sidestepped her, and was able to disarm the wolf with relative ease as he ripped the sword from her clenched paws but hesitated just a moment, clearly analyzing what would be the most successful tactic. It gave Catherine just enough time to flee.

 

“Looks like it’s finally goodbye….. Lord Rathblair!”

 

Her voice dripping with contempt, Catherine turned and fled the room, racing into the hallway, and down the stairs. At one point she heard Gordon screaming for her, but it sounded blissfully distant as the wolf hurried onto the grounds and past the still-open gates, bound for Stowhaven. There was someone she suddenly needed to speak with.

 

Catherine continued to run, never daring to look behind her as she left the Rathblair lands that had been her smothering prison for little over ten years. And finally, finally she was free! The wolf’s lungs were burning, and she knew that sooner or later she would have to slow down and catch her breath, but at the moment she was far too exhilarated to care much.

 

Finally, as she entered Stowhaven, Catherine darted into the shadowed safety of a back alley and collapsed atop a trash can, gasping and waiting until the fast-paced thudding of her heart finally slowed to normal. She only had one thing on her mind, though it embarrassed her heavily to think this now: She needed Leo’s help at the moment; she truly did.

 

She’d blown her only opportunity (no pun intended!) to murder Gordon, sadly, and now she was going to need assistance if she were to give it another try. Yes, from what she’d seen of him Leo was a smug little asshole and she resented males like that; but how long would she have to tolerate him?

 

It wasn’t a perfect plan, no, and nor was it foolproof, but it was all Catherine had and it would have to do for now. Fairly satisfied, she rose and went off in the direction of Leo’s hotel, actually feeling grateful she remembered the address.

 

At the hotel, Catherine wasted no time in finding the room Leo claimed was his, and began rapping impatiently at the door.

 

There was a brief period of silence, and then the door swung open. Leo was grinning cockily at Catherine; fully dressed in a suit and trousers that nonetheless looked a bit creased. Catherine clenched her paws briefly. She didn’t want to deal with any of his obnoxious arrogance, no, they had to get straight to business.

 

“And what brings you here, Lady Rathblair?”

 

Leo chuckled, spitting the title.

 

Catherine placed her paws on her hips.

 

“Leo, Landino, whatever the hell your name is; I don’t have time for this. But I will say that I need your help.”

 

Leo’s smile broadened.

 

“Changed your mind about that pesky husband of yours, hmm?”

 

Catherine nodded grimly.

 

“Yes, now why don’t we talk about this inside?”

 

“Of course, my pleasure. Come right in.”

 

Leo put a reluctant arm around Catherine’s shoulder and shut the door behind them. The wolf dog then sat in a lime-green armchair by the window, looking up at Catherine expectantly.

 

“So what made you change your mind so suddenly?”

 

Catherine shrugged vaguely.

 

“Again, it’s not your business, but I’ll say this: I tried to kill Gordon myself, and nearly got killed myself for it. If I’m going to succeed with this, I need your assistance.”

 

Leo nodded.

 

“Catherine, I’d really like to help you but there are a few….. Terms I’ll have to impose beforehand.”

 

Catherine was unfazed.

 

“Those being?”

 

“Well….. You, are going to have to pay me in exchange for this little deed. Is that too much to ask for?”

 

Leo’s last seven words were obnoxiously condescending, so Catherine ignored them and focused on what legitimately mattered: So Leo was asking for money in exchange for Gordon’s death. That was certainly something she could provide, so the wolf didn’t hesitate to ask:

 

“How much?”

 

“Thirty grand.”

 

Some sense of money this kid has…..

 

Catherine thought, incredulously, but saying:

 

“You’re on.”

 

And shaking his paw. A deal was a deal, and thirty thousand pounds she was more than capable of dispensing.

 

Giving Leo a cold smile, Catherine added:

 

“I can’t say myself if you deserve that amount of money, but so long as Gordon will be out of the picture then I can’t complain, can I now?”

 

The smile appearing on Leo’s face was identical.

 

“No, no you can’t.”

 

Catherine folded her arms and sat in the nearest vacant chair to think. Perhaps she was going to be able to tolerate this kid after all. For now, anyway.


	10. Chapter Nine

Meanwhile, at Cedric Duncan’s cottage; Alice and Jamie were together and at the moment, blissfully unaware of the danger that was continuing to mount elsewhere in Stowhaven. At the moment; they were in the sitting room, with the windows having been opened to let in plenty of May sunlight.

 

“Jamie,”

 

Alice began, clearing her throat and gripping the arms of her chair almost unnoticeably tighter.

 

“I’ve been thinking…. Maybe we should go home early.”

 

Jamie studied his wife curiously.

 

“Yeah, I’ve been thinkin’ the same, really. Not much point in staying around now that His Lordship wants us gone.”

 

Alice had to laugh at Jamie’s mock veneration of Gordon’s title. When the wolfdog spoke again, she added: “I feel the same; and we already got all the tourist crap done with in Evensburgh.” Alice legitimately DID share her husband’s sentiments- Now that they had been exiled from the Rathblair land, it probably wouldn’t be long until most of Stowhaven began to snub them; it being the small town that it was. That being said; she was starting to get quite homesick for Usland already, and was grateful that Jamie, too, was also in favor of going home.

 

“So when do you want to leave?”

 

She concluded.

 

Jamie shrugged.

 

“Maybe around tomorrow afternoon.”

 

Alice didn’t see why tomorrow afternoon wouldn’t work.

 

“Sure. That’d be perfect.”

 

She rose and headed for the door.

 

“I’ll see you; I’m going to go pack.”

 

Jamie nodded and watched his wife as she left before reclining back in his chair, quite happy that tomorrow they would both be returning home.

 

 

At Leo’s hotel, Catherine made arrangements to stay for the week- always better to plan ahead-, and took the room next to Leo’s; which happened to be vacant.

 

Around midnight, Catherine gave Leo an overview of how exactly he was going to kill Gordon: His objective was to enter the Rathblair home, kill Gordon (in the early hours of morning; when he’d be least likely to be noticed) in preferably the most violent manner possible and slip back out unnoticed.

 

Catherine also gave Leo directions to an old military depot on the moors; past the ruins, supposedly going back to the second world war. Apparently he’d be able to find some suitable weaponry with which to arm himself there; as well as probably a grappling hook to get over the estate’s decaying walls. Leo smoothly thanked Catherine for her assistance and went to back to his room, although he had no plans to sleep. At this point, the only thing Leo had to do was sit and wait for morning.

 

~

 

Leo ended up leaving at 2:33 am. He didn’t bother waking Catherine; why bother, when he could simply inform her of his success when he returned? With that in mind, he went to the moors and to the half-collapsed depot building, and was quite pleased to find a grappling hook.

 

However, what really caught his eye was a decades-old, dust-coated flamethrower hanging on the wall…… The instant he saw it, the wolfdog let out a low, satisfied chuckle. Now everything was starting to come together. If he was going to kill Gordon, why not burn the whole damn house along with him? Come to think of it; it would certainly earn him Catherine’s good graces, and Leo was getting quiet tired of her taking him to be an arrogant little prick.

 

Walking slowly now with the added weight of the flamethrower, Leo continued his steady passage through the moors, and then back into Stowhaven; where he eventually came face to face with the façade of the Rathblair home.

 

Grinning, Leo took a few steps back from the walls and swung the grappling hook. With a rather cheerful, clanging noise, the metal spike hit the top of the wall, allowing Leo to pull himself up and land on the other side.

 

When he was over the wall; Leo wordlessly sauntered down the path up towards the house and tried the door. Unlocked. A sly smile spreading across his face, Leo entered into the darkened front hall and deposited his flamethrower by the door- he’d return for it once he’d accomplished what Catherine wanted.

 

Climbing the stairs as quietly as he possibly could under the circumstances, once he reached the second floor, Leo quickly searched for Gordon’s room (There were a few dimmed safety lights on; presumably for any servants who might stay late, and he was able to navigate that way) based on the directions Catherine had told him. As soon as he was outside the door, Leo turned the doorknob and shut the door behind him as softly as possible. In the shadows of his sickeningly extravagant bedroom, Gordon was curled in bed, totally oblivious of what was to come. This only made Leo anticipate his killing all the more.

 

Creeping slowly towards the bed, Leo’s approach was initially silent….. Until a board squeaked beneath his footpaws. His giveaway. On the bed, Gordon blinked groggily and initially seemed too disoriented to notice Leo’s presence, but in moments his eyes unclouded and his face hardened into a glare.

 

“Who are you?”

 

He growled and sat up, teeth bared.

 

Leo’s expression never changed except for a single smirk of amusement as he replied:

 

“Catherine sent me. It’s time for you to go.”

 

For a moment, an almost impossible moment, Gordon faltered. Momentarily, his eyes filled with horror at his seemingly irreversible fate, and that gave Leo all the more satisfaction. However, (and sadly for Leo) just as soon as that look had been there, and it was gone.

 

“You are damned if you’re going to kill me, you mutt!”

 

Gordon rasped. He threw back the covers and fled the room.

 

Leo cursed under his breath and pursued the fox into the hallway, racing after him down the stairs and back into the front hall on the first floor.

 

Now, the two were alone. Leo’s fingers inched towards his gun, but he did not take it from his pocket. Suddenly; he was getting a far better idea- a moving target would be far more difficult to kill, and suddenly Leo thought he had the perfect alternative.

 

“Gordon,”

 

Leo called, heading towards the back of the room.

 

“How about we settle this like gentlebeasts? The honest way.”

 

Gordon was rightfully wary.

 

“And just what do you mean by that?”

 

“Like this!”

 

Having reached a small, wooden table at the back of the room, Leo now held a candelabra in his left paw. Gordon’s eyes widened; predictable for the coward he was. From there, the fox attempted to back into the wall, but now he had nowhere to run.

 

Leo pinned Gordon to the wall, and held the candelabra just above his head, poised to bring it down at any moment.

 

“Any last words….. My Lord?”

 

Gordon shook his head, his voice still dripping with contempt as he spoke:

 

“No…. None at all.”

 

In one vicious, blurred movement, Leo brought the candelabra down hard against Gordon’s skull, hard enough to make him collapse into an unconscious heap at Leo’s footpaws. But still, that wasn’t enough. Again and again Leo brought the object down against the fox lord’s skull until his pathetic whimpering ceased and his body went completely still.

 

“Pathetic. Damnably pathetic.”

 

Leo muttered, and left the body where it was.

 

Then, he put on his flamethrower by the shoulder strap and hunted for the trigger, not hesitating to pull it once he was able to locate it in the murky darkness, going to the left wall and facing it. Within seconds a pillar of flames shot in that direction, and Leo watched with satisfaction as a curtain of flames began to inch up the ancient surfaces.

 

And with that, Leo fled the estate before the flames became widespread enough to prevent his escape, laughing as he walked back to the depot to deposit his weaponry before returning to Catherine. He needed more jobs like this in his life.

 

 

In the end, Leo took his time getting back to his and Catherine’s hotel; though when he returned the wolfdog wasted no time in slipping into Catherine’s room to deliver the news of Gordon’s demise.

 

In the wolf’s hotel room, Leo studied her. She was definitely asleep; and showed no signs of waking anytime soon unless he intervened, which he did. Crossing the room to the bed, Leo grabbed Catherine’s shoulders none too gently and proceeded to shake her awake.

 

Catherine looked momentarily dazed but then sat up, albeit with a bit of a half-awake slump.

 

“You did it?”

 

Were the first words to exit her mouth.

 

Leo grinned and nodded.

 

“Yes. Now, when can I get that money?”

 

Catherine sighed.

 

“I’ll go to the bank as soon as it opens and I’ll take the money out then.”

 

“Good!”

 

Leo’s voice was jubilant.

 

Catherine studied him somewhat oddly for a moment before inquiring:

 

“Leo?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“There’s something I neglected to tell you.”

 

She smiled slyly.

 

“Oh? And what’s that, then?”

 

“Gordon has….a brother; his name is Malachy. There’s an urban legend in this town that Malachy died at birth because he was,”

 

Here Catherine’s voice dropped to a whisper; almost as though someone might enter and hear them.

 

“Hideously malformed.”

 

Leo’s expression, however, remained unchanged.

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Yes it is. Right now Malachy’s locked up in some asylum in a town named Hackbrook. Perhaps you, or maybe even the two of us could….. Encourage him to join us. If that’s to your interest.”

 

Leo hesitated. He HAD mentioned to Catherine earlier that he had a small band of followers in Usland but…..

 

“It is.”

 

He began.

 

“But Catherine, are you even interested in joining yourself?”

 

“Yes, yes I am. It’s the least I can do for the little….. Service you’ve done me.”

 

At this, Leo had to smile.

 

“I would agree with that….”

 

A silence. Leo used this moment of quiet to continue thinking.

 

“Catherine, I’ll say this: Perhaps Malachy is worth recruiting, perhaps not. Only one way to find out.”

 

Catherine nodded in agreement. Only one way out indeed.

 

After a moment, Leo added:

 

“We should leave at around nine; the hospital should be open by then.”

 

Catherine shrugged. Leo’s estimate sounded about right by her; and even if they came early, they could wait around Hackbrook and return later. And with that having been said and done, Leo returned to his room.

 

Shortly afterward, Catherine attempted to sleep; but woke up at around six and found she simply could not return to slumber. After a while, Catherine got up and turned on the television in the corner. The television had been left at a news channel, and she was surprised but also somewhat interested to see there was already local coverage of Gordon’s death, as well as the burning of the Rathblair mansion.

 

Catherine wasn’t paying attention to the segment where it was mentioned which of the servants had survived and which hadn’t; though it mentioned that the cause of Gordon’s death was already being investigated, and the fact that a candelabra had been found near his body suggested he’d been repeatedly beaten with it.

 

Catherine was unconcerned. By the time the minuscule local police department had even BEGAN to piece together who may have killed Gordon, she and Leo would both be long gone. On the subject of Leo; while the wolf disliked her reluctant partner in crime somewhat less now (Now that they knew each other a bit better, as well as the great assistance he’d rendered her); but there was no plausible way a romantic relationship with him was ever going to work- and Catherine had zero affection towards Leo anyway; he still was far too arrogant for her.

 

However, at the back of her mind; Catherine was certain that one day she’d find The One, her prince charming. But was that day going to be coming anytime soon? No. That she strongly doubted. But finally returning to her native Usland with Leo would surely secure her many romantic opportunities, and at the moment Catherine was quite content with that notion.

 

Meanwhile, as the news channel moved on to another story, Catherine turned the television off and returned to bed to wait for nine o’clock.

 

At around eight-twenty; Catherine and Leo both sent for room service and ordered their respective breakfasts, and by ten minutes to nine they were ready to leave and left the hotel to get Leo’s car. It was the wolfdog who did the driving.

 

It turned out that Catherine had been to Hackbrook a few times shortly after her wedding, and was able to help Leo navigate as they drove out of Stowhaven. Once they were on the road and Leo was fully confident he needed no more assistance, the drive was largely silent. Neither party believed that small talk was worthy of passing the time.

 

When they arrived at Hackbrook it was around 9:37. Leo and Catherine briefly inquired where the local asylum was; and some helpful locals told them where they could find it. The two acted on this advice and soon found the institution; a rather small and unimpressive-looking building that could easily have passed for an abandoned school.

 

Upon entering, Catherine approached the creature at the desk and said rather smoothly:

 

“Excuse me, we’re here to see a Malachy Rathblair.”

 

“Rathblair…..”

 

The nurse/secretary did a double take, but in moments her face flooded with recognition. She proceeded to tell them what room Malachy was in, and without another word between the two, Catherine and Leo went to it.

 

Catherine knocked; having barely beaten Leo to the door. Moments later, the door opened and Catherine slipped in. Leo meanwhile, found himself at last face to face with Gordon’s hidden brother. To say the least, Malachy’s physical defects unnerved him, and Leo flinched as he was led inside and the door was closed once again.

 

Sitting down on the room’s tiny bed, Malachy surveyed his guests. He was quite irritated that Catherine had showed up (and noted the fact that her precious black dress was somewhat wrinkled); and was quite sure that the young wolf or wolfdog who was with her was some petty suitor of hers. But then, what brought them here?

 

“Catherine,”

 

He began.

 

“I have no idea who this little boyfriend of yours is, but whatever you’ve came for I want nothing to do with it.”

 

Leo, however, wasted no time in making his appeal.

 

“I’m NOT Catherine’s boyfriend, not at all; and we just came here merely because the two of us have an offer to make you.”

 

Malachy’s expression remained unchanged; and he still looked just as displeased, but said nonetheless:

 

“Your offer being….?”

 

“My lord,”

 

Leo put special emphasis on the title as he began to speak again, surprising Malachy to say the least- No one had ever called him by the title intended for him at birth, not even Gordon in his most cruel, condescending moments.

 

“I am in charge of a small but growing crime ring in Usland. This year, I wish to expand my business as much as possible and recruit as many new members as may befit. And so, Catherine and I had been wondering if you would like to join us in our expenditures- I’m not going to lie; this is a very profitable business.”

 

Malachy hesitated. The wolfdog’s offer DID sound tantalizing, and the fox was sure that being a part of the criminal underworld would prove quite lucrative indeed; Malachy (unlike Gordon) COULD tell right from wrong, and therefore was unsure of how perfectly suited he would be to such a job. That and the fact he had one other question on his mind…..

 

“But will I have to work with Catherine?”

 

Catherine and Leo exchanged glances.

 

“Yes.”

 

Was Leo’s answer. And that one word spoke volumes.

 

Malachy cleared his throat a moment.

 

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t join you; having to tolerate the likes of…. Her will be impossible for me.”

 

Malachy looked away, his face the picture of disgust as Catherine smiled lecherously at him. Leo, however, did not seem to particularly mind his loss.

 

“In that case, I understand.”

 

He briefly turned to Catherine and whispered:

 

“I’d like to be alone with Malachy, go back to the lobby.”

 

Catherine looked quite puzzled but nonetheless left.

 

“And Sire….. There’s one other thing I have to tell you about.”

 

Leo was smirking.

 

“What’s that?”

 

Malachy hastily prompted.

 

“Gordon is dead!”

 

Leo’s face was alight with a small grin, and he added:

 

“I won’t need to tell you how. It’s on the news. At least, it should be.”

 

And with that, he left the room; leaving an incredulous Malachy alone with his thoughts. As though in a trance, he walked over to the dusty 1950s TV set he’d been provided with, and browsed through a few channels before he found a story being replayed from a Stowhaven news station. The fox listened, rapt with attention as the anchor said:

 

“….. Lord Gordon Rathblair is believed to have been murdered last night or early morning, and around simultaneously the Rathblair manor was burned in what may or may not have been an act of arson. Police are working to find the culprit as we speak; please stay tuned and keep your young children in sight at all times.”

 

Malachy watched, with wide eyes and slack-jawed stare as it cut to reveal footage of the house he and Gordon had been raised in; more than half of it a charred and blackened wooden lump, the rain-enduring roof the only thing that seemed to have survived in its entirety. While he felt a vague sadness that the only home he’d ever known had been destroyed; Malachy was quite happy that Gordon was dead. Indeed, his head swam with possibilities.

 

With Gordon dead, he had no one to govern over him (and he was quite certain Catherine was no longer interested; though that didn’t mean Malachy was ever going to trust her- he wasn’t.); and now had finally claimed the title that should have been his the moment he was born.

 

As soon as he made sure the ridiculously small staff at Hackbrook was aware of the situation, there was nothing stopping Malachy from proving his sanity and moving elsewhere. Why not?

 

Yes, the institution had proved to be anything but a bad place thus far, but now that he had other options; Malachy was not so sure he wanted to spend the rest of his life here. Sure, perhaps he could return occasionally to donate money or something of that nature (When he had enough TO donate), but now Malachy got the feeling he would be much happier if he lived a regular life in a regular home; something he had been denied since birth.

 

And with that, Malachy Rathblair sat on the bed and began to contemplate where he wanted to spend his upcoming future.

 

The drive back to Stowhaven was, for the most part, silent. On the way out of Hackbrook Leo hastily explained to Catherine that Malachy had no interest in joining them, and she accepted that. The half an hour back to Stowhaven neither party ever spoke; and the silence was never even occupied by Leo’s rather novel car radio.

 

Upon arriving back in town, Catherine went straight back to the hotel and Leo initially planned to follow her but then tentatively changed his mind. It was a rather pleasant day out; so he decided to take a walk north, to the moors.

 

Humming as he did so, Leo walked down the twisting, unpaved path, at first met only by placid silence. The farther north he went, however, he heard voices. Curious, the wolfdog ventured further, and eventually was able to discern that they belonged to Jamie, Alice, and those two unhelpful girls he’d met at that bar.

 

Interested, Leo hid in the nearest section of undergrowth and laid flat on his stomach, listening.

 

“Yeah, we plan on leaving this afternoon. It was nice talking to you.”

 

This was followed by:

 

“Well, we’ll certainly miss you- Arina and I still plan to stay here through the summer. Hope you have a safe trip home.”

 

Leo listened a little more, and was soon able to discern that Alice and Jamie planned to return to Usland, leaving for the airport this afternoon. Action had to be taken and quickly. Letting out a little breath, Leo quietly left the area and headed south; in the direction of the safety of his hotel.


	11. Chapter Ten

Catherine barely looked up from her newspaper and cigarette as Leo entered her hotel room and slumped down In the nearest chair.

 

“So, how was your walk?”

 

She inquired, eventually folding the newspaper and putting it aside.

 

Leo initially shrugged, but then a sly grin crept onto his face.

 

“It was…..”

 

He searched for the adequate words.

 

“A lot better than I expected.”

 

Catherine studied Leo directly- her curiosity, admittedly, was somewhat aroused.

 

“How so?”

 

Leo stiffened visibly.

 

“I saw my bitch of a sister and her husband talking when I was out.”

 

Catherine didn’t especially care but was to say the least; surprised. She’d had no idea that Leo had a sibling at all, let alone the fact that she was supposedly in or around town.

 

“I wasn’t aware you had a sister.”

 

“I do and we’re…… Not on good terms.”

 

“Why?”f

 

“It’s a damn long story and maybe you don’t need to know.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Catherine stood up.

 

“And what if I do?”

 

 

Leo laughed wryly- Catherine was certainly persistent; he’d have to hand that to her.

 

“In that case…. If you’re truly interested, I think I’ll make an exception.”

 

Catherine grinned, knowing she’d won, and returned to her chair.

 

 

Leo cleared his throat and began:

 

“My sister Alice and I are the bastards of mob boss Don Luciano diVenazetti. Heard of him?”

 

To be honest; the name was initially unfamiliar to Catherine, but she vaguely recalled reading a newspaper article about the creature’s death when she’d been a college sophomore, thinking little about it at the time. However, Catherine just nodded. She was getting a feeling based on Leo’s increasingly bragging manner that he would have been glad to ramble gratuitously away about his supposed father had she said no.

 

“I’m not surprised that you have.”

 

Leo smirked a bit, and continued:

 

“Alice and I were raised by our mother and a wolf we were taught to believe was our father, Felipe Karnage. When I was sixteen I found out otherwise but Alice just didn’t want to believe me….”

 

He shook his head and laughed a bit.

 

“Perhaps it was just too much for her.”

 

Continuing, Leo concluded:

 

“Alice is such a fool for denying her heritage, and I DO want to see to it that every member of my ‘birth’ family, including her husband pays accordingly. In blood.”

 

Catherine listened intently; this she was beginning to like the sound of….. However, she had to hesitate about one thing:

 

“But what’s in it for me?”

 

Leo smiled at Catherine, and thankfully for them both; it was not a condescending one in the least.

 

“Would equal leadership of my… Familiars interest you?”

 

This was an offer Catherine simply could not turn down. She would certainly relish control over Leo’s band of goons; no matter how small they might turn out to be, and if the situation ever demanded it, oh, she could arrange for him to have a little….. Accident to ensure she would be the only one in power and that it stayed that way.

 

Yes, Catherine liked the sound of this indeed; and so she said:

 

“In that case, I think we have a deal.”

 

“And I’m happy we could compromise.”

 

Leo agreed, adding:

 

“Now….. I was thinking we ambush them on their way to the train station…”

 

Catherine knew this plan would be foolishly easy to execute. Stowhaven was quite a small town; even by village standards, so chances were Alice and Jamie weren’t going to be TOO hard to find.

 

“With weapons from the depot, of course.”

 

“Great minds think alike, Catherine. Of course we’re going to the depot!”

 

And with that, the two wordlessly departed off to collect their weapons of choice and wait for the opportune moment to strike.

 

 

In the depot’s ruined weapons room; Leo was surveying their wide selection of weapons to choose from, quite gleeful already about the coming violence; whereas Catherine seemed more conservative and hesitant about her choices. Leo, meanwhile, chose to observe the wolf from a distance; smiling slyly for reasons that were at present unknown.

 

Leo knew by looking at her face that Catherine had most certainly been quite attractive in her younger years. Indeed, the wolf was still pretty, but she was already well into her middle ages; and if anything, Leo would call her venomously plain-faced. Privately of course, he thought it was a suitable appearance for a creature of Catherine’s vain and wistful nature; forever longing for something she could probably never have- in this case, romantic affection.

 

The wolfdog was distracted from his gloating, however; by the fact that Catherine seemed to be calling him at the moment.

 

“Leo? Can you come over here?”

 

Her voice carried from the other side of the room. Leo shook his head and went to her. Catherine was holding a dust-coated, bolt-action rifle that was unfamiliar to Leo due to its age.

 

 

“Not too bad. You know what kind of gun that is?”

 

“It’s a welrod; apparently they used to be popular here and in Anglicia during the war.”

 

Leo glanced back at the rack of guns. There were two other welrods; and it seemed to be the best type of model the depot had. Why not go with that?

 

 

“I think that’ll work.”

 

Leo glanced at the gun a bit until he found the trigger, grinning when he did.

 

As soon as they made sure the guns were loaded, Leo found himself smiling conceitedly as he threw an arm over Catherine’s shoulders as they walked out. She glared but reluctantly allowed him to do so. And on that note the two subtly gleeful partners in crime marched off in pursuit of their future targets; one a sadist and one feeling no remorse.

 

 

Catherine and Leo never spoke on the walk to the train station. Both were wholly and completely fixated on their singular goal: Find Jamie and Alice before they boarded the train to Evensburgh and see to it that they never left the station.

 

Their welrods (which thankfully, were fairly small guns) concealed beneath their clothing (and Leo’s switchblade pilfered from Dunmore resting within his pocket), the shadowy pair walked into the station practically unnoticed. Leo was grinning, and Catherine risked a smirk herself as they walked through the fairly sizable, airy old building and made their way to the platform.

 

Catherine’s smile widened and she silently motioned for Leo to stop walking as well as they saw their prospective targets impatiently waiting behind a line of other creatures already entering the train.

 

“Ready?”

 

She murmured.

 

Leo’s smile was reeking of twisted glee.

 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

 

He rubbed his paws together in anticipation and approached Jamie and Alice. Striding all too calmly ahead of Catherine, Leo called over his shoulder as he approached his sister and brother-in-law:

 

“Hello Alice! Wasn’t it a pity I had to crash that silly wedding of yours?”

 

Leo chuckled, that little laugh that was similar to his father’s and yet most definitely his own. Alice and Jamie turned, stunned. Leo’s cold smile spread even more as Alice’s jaw went slack and her eyes widened in horror at the fact that her brother had finally caught up with her.

 

“Holy shit, Alice, it’s your brothe---“

 

Jamie started to ask, horrified, when Alice vehemently cut him off:

 

“That son of a bitch is of no relation to me.”

 

She grated her teeth, voice firm and fists clenched.

 

“Absolutely none.”

 

The crowd was abruptly dispersing now as the tension began to openly bloom; even more so when Leo produced his gun from inside his coat, and Catherine pulled hers from the soft, dark folds of her dress. A particularly brave bystander walked off muttering something about contacting the police but Leo was unfazed.

 

Catherine, meanwhile, was looking directly at Alice and Jamie with a sly smile as she stroked the barrel of her gun, and all too casually intoning to Alice:

 

“I wouldn’t make a move if I were you. Don’t even try. But with a crazy little bitch like I’m sure you are, I wouldn’t be too surprised.”

 

She gave an eerily smooth little laugh and Alice lunged forward.

 

“You slut!”

 

Alice gasped as Jamie held her back.

 

“Catherine, I am going to fucking kill you!”

 

Alice’s words oozed heated rage; and she was just as offended at being called crazy as her father was. Although Catherine did not know this, she was nonetheless pleased at the reaction her words had triggered and chose to respond:

 

“I wouldn't be so certain of that if I were you.”

 

Leo, meanwhile, casually went up to the still-seething Alice and smiled almost wistfully.

 

“You have mommy’s temper, Alice. Now isn’t that a pleasure?”

 

Alice strained in Jamie's grip.

“Alice, Alice, don’t move; he might----"

Unfortunately, her husband’s warnings had fallen on deaf ears, for just as the words left his mouth, Alice broke free from Jamie’s protective grasp, unable to control herself for a moment longer.

Alice threw herself at Leo and bit him on the right ear; taking out a decent-sized chunk. Leo gave a yelping cry and staggered a few paces back, blood trickling from the notch that had been ripped into his ear; the wound being almost exactly the same as Felipe Karnage’s.

 

“Call me crazy again and die, you fucking bastard!”

Alice muttered, glaring up at Leo, eyes ablaze with feral hate. She bared her teeth.

"Count yourself lucky it was your ear I got and not your throat. . . ."

 

Catherine, who was growing impatient with Leo’s antics, pulled the trigger. She shot at Alice, but very narrowly missed. Leo gritted his teeth and winced.

 

“Catherine!”

 

He hissed.

 

“I was just about to shoot.”

 

He dug his fingers into her shoulder, and just as Catherine was about to respond, Alice forcefully pried the welrod from Catherine’s paws.

 

Jamie’s footpaws felt practically rooted to the floor. He was aware that Leo Karnage was utter scum, but at the same time he didn’t want to see his wife become a murderer; even with the liability she’d be able to chalk this up as self-defense.

 

“Alicia….”

 

He began, calling his wife what her father once had.

 

“Alicia this isn’t you. I love you. Please…..”

 

Alice took a breath and glanced back at Jamie. She slowly exhaled, calming.

 

“Jamie, I love you too. But I have to do this. And I’m getting rid of one more sick son of a bitch like your father!”

 

Jamie’s paw shot forward and he tried to seize control of the gun, but was seconds too late. Alice had squeezed the trigger, aiming for the heart. By a fraction of an inch; her shot fell short, the bullet embedding itself in a paint-chipped wooden pillar.

 

Leo stepped aside so Alice could see what she’d done.

 

“You. Missed.”

 

His face was the picture of sadistic ecstasy.

 

 

Alice, outraged, had no idea how many bullets were loaded into the gun but it was always worth a try to find out. Right now, she would want nothing more than to rid herself of Leo’s evil permanently. However, before she could pull the trigger once again, Jamie grabbed his wife by the shoulder and turned her to face him.

 

“Alice, your father brought honor to the Karnage family name by choosing a life of peace. Would you dishonor him by becoming a murderer?”

 

Jamie’s paws closed around the gun and gently worked it from her grasp. Alice sighed and mulled this over. She despised Leo with every particle of her being; and she desperately yearned for a way to be at peace from his crimes, but she realized she had to study things from Jamie’s point of view. Maybe she didn’t necessarily agree with that idea at the moment, but maybe there was another way.

 

Wanting to compromise for them both, Alice did not attempt to regain possession of the welrod.

 

Catherine seemed amused about this.

 

“Your husband’s right, you know. But it’s not as though your family HAS any honor!”

 

Leo took Dunmore’s former switchblade from his pocket and clicked it. The blade sprung out. He took the switchblade he’d gotten from Cape Suzette and handed it to Catherine.

 

“It’s over.”

 

Leo rasped as he and Catherine further approached Alice and Jamie.

 

“Don’t think you can run.”

 

Leo’s face held no emotion other than murderous happiness as he took his welrod and pointed it at a struggling Alice’s throat.

 

“Pacifism isn’t going to help you now, pretty boy.”

 

Leo’s voice was like ice.

 

Shoving past Catherine, Jamie clenched his fists and knew he had to make a decision and fast. He didn’t want to have to resort to violence; it could potentially only make the situation worse, but if he had to save his wife……

 

“I think you underestimated me Leo.”

 

Jamie ran to Leo and Alice and knocked the gun from Leo’s paws. It took strength, but he managed to wrestle Leo’s switchblade away from him. In one swift movement, Jamie sliced Leo’s face with the blade. Coincidentally, he now had the exact same scar as Cailean Dunmore.

 

Leo gasped and wiped at his bleeding face, while Catherine worriedly glanced behind them. The police were starting to arrive, and now it seemed their time was short.

 

“You might’ve gotten the better of us this time,”

 

Catherine began, arms folded.

 

“But if we ever meet again….. You two are going to be dead as my husbands. Both of them.”

 

“You’d better listen to her.”

 

Leo added, licking off blood that had began to smear in tiny streams around his muzzle.

 

Offering Leo her arm, the wolf and the wolfdog fled to the bottom of the station, fleeing out a large open window.

 

Alice glanced back at her husband, shaking.

 

“Let’s…. Let’s get out of here.”

 

She breathed, overwhelmed.”

 

“I think we can wait.”

 

“So do I.”

 

With a sigh, Jamie took his wife’s paw, and together they left the chaos of the train station and emerged into the warm, tranquil Scozian sunlight.


	12. Epilogue

In the end, the afternoon train bound for Evensburgh had to be rescheduled for four o’ clock. Alice and Jamie did not mind this in the least and spent the remainder of the day mostly in each other’s arms; leaving for Evensburgh and the airport the following morning.

 

Initially, Jamie and Alice were uncertain of how much they were going to tell Karnage and Grace of their honeymoon experience; but eventually, inevitably, the whole thing came tumbling out during a visit to Grace and Karnage’s home the weekend after the incidents in Scozia.

 

Karnage was disgusted and sickened by Leo’s actions as usual, and he was quite concerned for Alice and Jamie’s safety to the point of offering them a temporary stay in the guest bedroom. Grace, quite worried as well; was more than happy to provide support for her daughter and son-in-law.

 

Utterly moved by all the kindness they’d been receiving, as well as more than cautious about their own safety; Jamie and Alice both accepted the offer and stayed in Southshire for little less than two weeks before returning home.

 

The police, meanwhile, never found a trace of Catherine and Leo. They had taken Leo’s car and fled deep into Scozia’s eastern countryside; eventually returning to Usland. Leo’s career in the criminal underworld slowly continued to blossom, and Catherine was welcomed as his equal into his circle of companions.

 

Back in Scozia, Malachy left Hackbrook’s asylum in June, having since inherited his birth title. Strangely, now that he was discharged; Malachy found that the title he’d been waiting all of nearly sixty years to receive just wasn’t as thrilling as he’d been hoping. Oh well. There were plenty of things the fox was hoping to enjoy before he got TOO old. Malachy bought and moved into a quiet little cottage a few towns south of Hackbrook. Although there were occasional times where he would slightly regret declining Leo and Catherine’s offer, but the rational part of him was well aware he wouldn’t have been all that suited for a life of crime.

 

And as he gently settled into daily routine in the placid countryside, Malachy eventually came to realize that the life he was enjoying now was the one he indeed was born for. And that alone was enough to put the fox’s restlessness to a conclusion.

 

As for Cassie and Arina; they remained in Scozia through the summer, and ended up completing their film. Despite its amateurish tone, it become a cult phenomena in their home county of Usland, and as time passed both young dogs would eventually find themselves looking at offers of decent independent filmography jobs in Starrywood.

 

In Morstoke, time passed fairly smoothly for Alice and Jamie. Though their summer had been fairly hectic (in a fun way; thankfully- entirely different from their honeymoon!), the fall and winter that would follow were quite relaxing, and a year later, in the fall of 1964; Alice discovered she was pregnant. Grace and Karnage were thrilled; and on April 8th, 1965, Jason Phillip Duncan was born, although he was called Jay practically from birth.

 

Having neither his mother’s familiar reddish fur neither his father’s silvery gray, Jay was born completely white like his great-aunt Helena and it soon became clear his fur was never going to darken.

 

A week later, when the newborn opened his eyes for the first time it was revealed he had Helena’s eyes as well. Karnage was just as overjoyed as Alice and Jamie when Jay had been born, but the fact that his grandson reminded him so much of his sister made him feel especially protective.

 

And so, he eventually went to Karnageport and to the cemetery (accompanied by Grace), and the two paid their respects; most notably to Helena, Theresa and Daniel. Life was fulfilling. Time passed.

 

In Cape Suzette, in 1967, Catherine was beginning to grow tired of ruling alongside Leo, and so she began to scheme on how to arrange Leo’s death and forcibly take control of his thugs whether they liked her leadership or not.

 

One evening, Catherine entered Leo’s bedroom carrying a small pistol with a silencer. She attempted to blow Leo’s brains out in his sleep, but he heard her on the bedroom’s floorboards before the wolf could so much as put her finger on the trigger, and the plan was quickly desecrated.

 

Three days later, Leo called Catherine into his bedroom once again.

 

“Hello, Catherine.”

 

He was smiling as she entered, but both were fully aware Catherine wasn’t going to be buying his cheerful façade for one second.

 

“Hello.”

 

She replied, with stiff politeness.

 

Leo stood up.

 

“Come here, please.”

 

Catherine stayed where she was and shook her head.

 

“Leo…..”

 

“I said come here, damn you!”

 

Heart beginning to pound, Catherine did as she was told.

 

“Good girl,”

 

He murmured.

 

“Now if you be quiet and don’t struggle maybe this won’t hurt as much.”

 

And with that, the wolfdog put his arms around Catherine’s waist as though to kiss her, but then shoved her back, pulling a gun from his pants pocket and shooting Catherine in the stomach. She shrieked and remained shakily on her footpaws a moment before doubling over on the carpeting, gasping.

 

Leo smiled fondly as he hauled Catherine into his lap, as he would a small child, grinning as he did. The wolf was bleeding profusely from her abdomen, where Leo had shot her, and her breathing was coming in quick, exhausted gasps as streams of blood trickled down the bottom of her blouse.

 

“Leo…..”

 

Catherine panted, her eyes glassy. She was trembling.

 

“End it…… Now…. Please?”

 

Leo gave a merry little chuckle, becoming almost giddy as her pain increased. However, when he took a moment to listen to Catherine’s pathetic whimpering, and as the messy tears that splashed down her face; he felt something vaguely resembling sympathy for her.

 

She HAD been his partner in crime after all- he’d helped her, and she’d helped him, and vice versa. And if anything, there were a few, fleeting moments where they might have been a little more than friends- at least, a sane individual might phrase it that way, anyway.

 

Leo took a moment to consider it, glanced back to Catherine, and then to his pockets, but nodded.

 

“Have fun.”

 

He slipped what had once been Cailean Dunnmore’s switchblade from his pocket, clicked the blade out, and drove it deeply into the back of Catherine’s neck, at the base of her skull. She gave a quiet, scarcely audible little gasp, and then ceased to move altogether; dead.

 

“Goodbye, dear Cathy.”

 

Leo was still smiling as he yanked the bloodied knife from Catherine’s skull and wiped it on the front of her dress. He held her bloodied, broken corpse in his arms a few moments longer, unable to resist the temptation of doing such a thing any longer. Some things were better left to rot.

 

Two more years went by, and for Alice and Jamie things were nothing less than heaven. Jay was now a sweet, rambunctious four-year-old, who had none too happily been sent to bed, despite having protested he’d wanted to watch television (today WAS a historic day; on July 16th, 1969, the Uslandian space program had finally succeeded in sending their first creature to the moon after a long, drawn-out battle with scientists in the rivaling county of Thembria).

 

Meanwhile, in the hallway outside his son’s bedroom, Jamie was mildly startled when Alice entered out of the gloom. She smiled.

 

“Jay’s finally asleep?”

 

She marveled.

 

Jamie wiped at his forehead and feigned weariness.

 

“Yep; after about fifty bedtime stories.”

 

Alice found herself smiling.

 

“Which is why we’re not having any more kids.”

 

Jamie threw up his paws.

 

“Exactly.”

 

As he looked into his wife’s eyes, Jamie felt overwhelmingly in love; just as much as the day he’d married Alice. Noticing Jamie’s lovestruck expression, Alice said nothing. She suspected what was on Jamie’s mind, and leaned forward, kissing him passionately. There was nothing more in the world that either of them could have asked for, and ultimately; it seemed that this was where they belonged. Together.


End file.
